Lifts and Separates

Those of us over a certain number of years remember Jane Russell hawking "Cross Your Heart" bras on TV...the ones that, "Lift and separate," she chirped into the camera with a smile.

Ya know what doesn't "lift and separate?"
This:













Worst part? Depending on the website you go to...this thing can set you back over three hundred bucks.
WHY would anyone BUY that, you ask?
Lymphedema.

Why am I not even gonna consider this thing, even if my armpit swells to the size of Iowa?
Itsafugly.

I draw the line...right here and right now on this bad boy. Nope, no, not eva gonna happen, nyet, no.
How about a side of NO.

See, this is my line in the sand....prior to breast cancer, I wore pretty bras. Lacy bras. Bras that were available in many colors. French demi bras (my personal favorite). Bras that supported---yet made the girls look good.

Now that I am post-treatment and poofy, I am supposed to wear some psyche-ward reject just because my left breast went rogue?
I. Don't. Think. So.

I will practice self lymph massage. I will keep my PT appointments. I will do whatever I can to keep this condition from forcing me into industrial underwear marketed by Goodyear.

As god as my witness...

I'mma gonna hafta evict a bitch....

Today, I took the reigns.
No appointment was made FOR me...*I* made the appointment....and NOT because I *HAD* to, but because I *wanted* to.

I went to the Y and signed up for the Livestrong program.
Now, I don't really give a hairy rats' ass about Armstong and his doping and his Tours de France (or anywhere else).
I give a shit that the man gives back.
So...screw the haters.
Hmph.
Anyway, so I am sitting there, completely feeling weirdly comfortable in a cramped, stuffy office, giving the intake RN all my info. I couldn't even understand why I was so comfortable, I just knew I was. And while foreign a feeling lately, it was pretty awesome.
And then, at the close, she asked me what I hoped to get from the program...and the light dawned.

"I want my life back. I want to do something for me that isn't about the cancer." Yeah, I have steroid weight to lose, but I was always physically fit---until these last few months. I've lifted weights most of my adult life. I was always strong (I always tell the man he's lucky he didn't marry a delicate creature when we do work around the house). But lately? Weak as shit. And always tired...well guess what?

Screw. That. Noise.

I am gonna do this program and I am gonna feel good and I am gonna get my size 6's back over my ass.
Yes I am.
And I am doing it not because exercise is good for cancer prevention (because, let's face it...it prevented NOTHING)...I am doing it because I look good when I exercise.

Vanity.

I've never had a lot...(thank God, or the last few months would have devastated me) but I do have some.

I'm glad I tapped it, once again. She and I are gonna evict this free-loading cancer bitch from my life.
And we're gonna look good doing it.