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We're really excited about today's wonderful guest blogger. Lucy is a very talented tattoo artist and she specialises in tattoos for women who have been affected by breast cancer.    

We'll let Lucy introduce herself:  

"Hi everyone. I'm Lucy Thompson. I'm a 30 year old single mama and a paramedical tattoo artist specialising in 3D and decorative tattoos for breast cancer survivors. I created a charity – the Nipple Innovation Project – to offer free 3D nipple tattoos and to raise the standards of restorative tattoo options following mastectomy surgery and to educate. I want to empower people with the restorative tattooing I offer and raise awareness and educate people on the importance of finding a suitably trained practitioner to seek this service from."  

You can find Lucy on Instagram @lucy_nipple and you can learn more about the Nipple Innovation Project at @nippleinnovationproject and at on the website.

Lucy has written today about the story behind her passion of restorative tattooing and what inspired her to create the Nipple Innovation Project.    

Take it away, Lucy!  

"I have been tattooing since 2014 after I spent years and years trying to get an apprenticeship in a very male dominated industry. I’m also a single mum to an 11 year old boy, I come from a family of farmers and artists – a vast contrast in professions ;)  

I have grown up admiring my grandparent’s artwork; they’re self-taught painters. I recall spending hours and hours sat with them being taught new painting and drawing skills.    

Drawing and painting have always been my go-to activities throughout my life. When I left school I knew I wanted to do something creative but never knew what. When I got my first tattoo (which was underage at the age of 16), I remember being absolutely fascinated by the process and the artwork. It piqued my interest and sparked something in me which empowered me to seek training to become a tattoo artist!  

Once I'd completed my apprenticeship it was obvious I had a natural flair for the arts which inspired me to open my own studio. By this point I had acquired lots of tattoos myself and I knew how much more confident and empowered I felt in my skin for the tattoos I'd had done. I wanted to help other people feel this good!!  

I went on to open my own studio and I was asked by a couple of people to cover up some self harm scars on their bodies. They told me that other tattoo artists had said they couldn’t help them because the scars were too bad. This surprised me because I felt if anything people who have scars, a tattoo is possibly more important to them as scars can be a reminder of a past trauma, a constant reminder of a time in their life that they wanted to forget.    

This set me off and inspired me to further my knowledge on scar tissue. It was at this time I decided to start the scar cover up project. I gave away one free tattoo a month to someone who couldn’t afford a cover up but so desperately needed one, I was in a position to be able to help heal others with beautiful artwork and I wanted to do what I could to make a difference.  

A year or so into the scar cover up project I was approached by a client who asked me to do a nipple tattoo. This was the first ever time I’d heard of a ‘nipple tattoo’ and I had to do some research! They told me how they had had one done at the hospital and it had faded away.. I was shocked – the hospital?! Tattooing?! This prompted me to do some research and was quite shocked by what I found; hospital tattoos being done by medical professionals with minimal tattoo experience, the tattoos looked nothing like nipples and faded nearly every single time. I also found that a few semi-permanent nipple tattoos were being offered by semi-permanent make-up artists, these also faded away. I didn’t understand this at all. Why would anyone want a nipple that faded away?!  

I knew my auntie had had breast cancer when I was younger, I asked my mum if she knew if my auntie had a hospital tattoo and she explained she didn’t know, she told me how it was a very difficult and challenging time for my auntie and she never openly spoke about it at the time or even since her mastectomy. It had been ten years at the time. I plucked up the courage to broach the subject with my auntie and she was very closed off, she told me her hospital tattoo experience was horrible and it had faded away, she doesn’t ever look at it and that was that.  

It saddened me to hear this coming from my auntie, a brave survivor of breast cancer, a ten year warrior! For her to not want to talk about her victory of being ten years cancer free or to be able to even look at her body, truly pained me. I couldn’t understand it. Why were these incredible people having such important tattoos done that faded away?  

This set me off on some internet searching. There HAD to be someone out there doing permanent nipple tattoos. I couldn’t find anyone in the UK so I took to Instagram and found a collective called the Areola Restorative Tattoo. They were a USA based collective of professional artists who specialised in realistic tattoos that had a 3D effect and more importantly were PERMANENT!! There and then I sent a message asking to know more. I spoke to Stacie-Rae who advised me to buy her book and when I received it in the post a few weeks later I read it from back to front that same day! I knew I had found my calling.  

At that point I knew I had to do this training, more than anything. A class was being held in Texas, USA, and I couldn’t explain it but I just knew I had to be on that class.    

With the support of my family I signed up and made travel arrangements, no going back! The training was in a beautiful cabin house in Texas and it was life changing, it truly was.    

On the third day I did my first ever nipple tattoo for a lovely lady whose surgeon had told her due to her unilateral mastectomy she couldn’t have a tattoo that would match her opposite side. She was obviously devastated and so desperately wanted to feel ‘normal’ or ‘whole again’. No pressure then!    

I managed to not only create her a new tattoo but we got a pretty good match to her natural whilst creating some visual balance at the same time. She was elated as was I! She was over the moon, she cried, I cried, it was a truly beautiful and life changing moment. I remember leaving the room shortly after to call my mum in tears, I was absolutely overwhelmed by pride, joy and happiness all at the same time. Just incredible.  

I was lucky enough to be able to help my auntie with her permanent nipple tattoo. She was reluctant at first, she asked lots of questions and I showed and talked her through the process. She even spoke to a client of mine before deciding to trust me with this important part of her life that she had kind of almost put behind her and moved on from. I won’t go into too much detail but I can say it was one of the most special, memorable and intimate times of my life. It was such an honour to be able to help my auntie. I got to see her confidence grow in ways neither of us realised were possible. She even told me she had been speaking to some friends about how much it had helped her self esteem, this coming from the lady who wouldn’t even discuss her breast cancer experience before, is simply too incredible to put into words.  

I knew I wanted to help other people feel empowered and feel that same feeling myself again, it was so special. I was excited to return to the UK and build on my experience! I offered out the next 20 tattoos for free and once I had built up my experience and portfolio I started to charge for my services. I found this a difficult thing to do as some of my clients couldn’t afford the tattoo, whilst it was reasonably priced for the difficulty, speciality and skill that went into creating it. I found clients couldn’t claim on their insurance either as I was just a tattoo artist. I was torn by wanting to be able to help everyone that needed this service but needing to take a wage too. This got me thinking, if only there was a pot of money to be able to pay for this challenging and specialist work so NO ONE had to miss out…  

I had an idea of starting a charitable organisation that could pay for the tattoos, I called it The Nipple Innovation Project. The idea behind N.I.P was to provide funding to people who needed it. I didn’t feel money should be an issue when seeking this restorative and healing art work, I knew how important and life changing this work was and I wanted to be able to offer this out to anyone and everyone who needed a new nipple tattoo. Since we started in 2018 we have grown to a team of 6 verified artists throughout the UK and southern Ireland.  

We now have an online directory on our website which you can easily navigate to find your nearest practitioner. Whilst I have people travel from all over to get tattooed by me – its not always practical for everyone so my goal is to grow this directory so we have a fully trained artist in every city throughout the UK. We became a registered charity in March 2020.  

The long term goal is for us to be recognised by the NHS as a trusted service to be able to alleviate the pressure and costs to the NHS by undertaking this work whilst being funded by the Nipple Innovation Project and offering the service free of charge to everyone who needs it. This would free up surgeons and nurses time where it is often needed elsewhere, not spent tattooing. There was a huge waiting list for this service pre-covid I dread to think what it is now. Unfortunately the physical and mental importance of having this work done is massively underestimated by many medical professionals. The impact a failed nipple tattoo can have on someone’s self-esteem or mental health is really quite scary, we plan to change this. Its 2020: it's time to get it right the first time, every time.  

This specialist service could then be left to experienced, dedicated and specialist artists who dedicate their time and career to perfecting this particular service. This work is extremely challenging and needs to be done by someone with previous professional tattooing experience, an artistic eye and knowledge of scar tissue. The skin is so so delicate and has been through so much trauma, that needs to be respected and understood. It is often overworked which causes more damage and can make corrective tattooing almost impossible, which is devastating and avoidable.  

At the moment I'm working on growing the Nipple Innovation Project by training more dedicated artists who are interested in being a part of our movement. We're a charity run solely on donations, this helps us fund these treatments and offer them out for free. Covid has put a stop to our annual fundraiser so we are having to approach it differently this year but have found our waiting lists are increasing.  

We will figure something out, we have a great team of support behind us and people who are genuinely wanting to back us and help us change the world – one nipple at a time ;)"  

Thank you for sharing your story with us, Lucy. We've seen first hand what a huge difference nipple tattoos can make for people who have undergone breast surgery. We're blown away by your passion and the amazing work you do!  

We have another wonderful guest blogger for you today. We're delighted to introduce you to the lovely Gabbie. Gabbie is a previvor who has been blogging about her experience of having a double mastectomy during a pandemic and living flat.    

Gabbie sadly lost her mum to breast cancer; Gabbie was 19 and her mum was only 45. Years later, Gabbie underwent genetic testing and discovered she has a BRCA2 mutation. Gabbie has written so beautifully and movingly about her experiences in her blog thebooblesswonder.wordpress.com. We wholeheartedly encourage you to check it out. You can also find Gabbie on Instagram @thebooblesswonder.

Gabbie has written for us today about her decision not to have reconstruction surgery. Take it away, Gabbie:  

"As soon as I heard I had a BRCA2 mutation, I knew I wanted a preventative double mastectomy. I had just turned 34 and was about to give birth to my second child. I couldn’t bear the thought of dying of breast cancer, like my mum had, and leaving behind my children. For me, the decision was easy: remove the breasts, reduce the risk.  

But did I want breast reconstruction? That was trickier.  

I have always felt fairly comfortable in my body. Fairly. Like most of us millennials who grew up in the nineties era of photoshopped models, I can’t help but carry around a mental list of my alleged physical flaws. Too short. Too white. Too hairy! Still, generally, I liked the way I look. Even after two kids and the permanent changes they had wrought on my body. Stretchmarks. Split abs. C-section scar. Wrinkly belly. After nearly two years of breastfeeding, my breasts in particular were unrecognisable. Deflated. But could I live without any breasts at all?  

Right from the start, my gut instinct was that I wanted to be flat. But I also knew this decision was too important to make by instinct alone: I needed to consider every available option, and make an educated choice. I carried out a lot of research on different types of reconstruction. A lot. I read books, scientific articles, blogs of personal experiences. I joined multiple Facebook groups. I introduced myself, asked questions. Many, many generous women sent me pictures of their different surgical results, so that I could see what they looked like and consider whether I would want that for myself. For a while, my phone gallery was chock-a-block with boobs!  

There seemed to be so many possibilities for reconstruction. Using my own tissue, using implants, using a combination of both. Saving my nipples or removing them. And so many potential complications! Rippling, rotation, necrosis. I was overwhelmed with information, fighting my way through it, trying to weigh everything up. But amid it all, I kept coming back to the idea of being flat. Turning it over in my mind, like a smooth stone. It was a calming idea, I found. As a surgery, it carried the least risk. Had the shortest recovery time. And I felt like it was the choice that would be truest to me.  

When I met with the surgeon, I told her I was seriously leaning towards not reconstructing. Nevertheless, I asked her what she would suggest for me if she were to reconstruct. Not every reconstruction surgery is suitable for every woman, and I felt it would make my decision clearer if I knew which options were actually on the table.  

The surgeon assessed me carefully, looking first at my breasts and then also at my body, for sites where she could potentially harvest tissue. As it turned out, my options for reconstruction were limited because of my body type – I am quite petite, with low body fat. I didn’t have enough tissue for DIEP-flap reconstruction, where part of your tummy is used to create new breasts. I could have an LD-flap reconstruction, where your shoulder tissue and muscle is used, but my surgeon said that without adding implants to boost the results, I would find them disappointing. My best option was probably to have a direct-to-implant reconstruction.  

This pretty much decided me. I was certain I didn’t want implants. While I thought they looked incredible in other women’s reconstructions, I wasn’t open to the additional risks they posed for complications, however small those risks were. I am naturally very risk-averse. A born worrier. I knew that if I put implants into my body, I would be fretting about them for the rest of my life. And I just didn’t want to spend any more time fretting about my boobs. This mastectomy was supposed to be deducting worry from my life, not adding to it!

Ultimately, I decided to go with my gut and not reconstruct. It felt right. That’s not to say I wasn’t frightened about it – there was fear there, for sure. Not just about the surgery itself, but about afterwards. What I would look like. How people would react. How I would feel about myself. Would I still like the way I looked, after my breasts were gone? Would I still feel sexy? Would I get mistaken for a twelve-year-old boy?!  

Then, with less than a month to go until my surgery, it was cancelled due to Covid-19. This was a major blow. I had really geared myself up psychologically, and to have the surgery whipped away when it had been in arm’s reach was so distressing. I was terrified it would be put on hold indefinitely, that I might develop breast cancer before preventative surgery started up again.  

As it turned out, I was lucky. I live in an area that wasn’t hit hard by the pandemic, and my surgeon called me in to have my surgery the moment she could, in the first week of June. I’ll be honest: even on the journey into hospital, I was still worrying a little bit about whether I should have asked for a reconstruction. But the pandemic had crystallised things for me: the crucial thing was that the boobs, and the risk they posed to me, were gone.  

I had to go alone to the hospital, due to strict Covid rules. I was fizzing with nerves, but kept myself calm by bantering with my nurse as I waited to be called to the operating theatre.  

When I woke up, I was surprised by the lack of pain. I was groggy, but comfortable. It wasn’t long before I was able to get out of bed and get dressed to go home. As I removed my hospital gown, I decided to walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror. The moment I saw myself, I was so relieved. I knew I’d made the right decision for me. Being flat looked fine. I didn’t look freakish or boyish, or any of the things I had worried about. I just looked like myself.  

I’ve been living flat for three months now. I’m having fun working out what clothes I can still wear (spoiler: most of them!) and sharing my journey on my Instagram account @thebooblesswonder to help other flatties and prospective flatties. I love being part of this club of brave, beautiful and individual women, all rocking their foobs or uniboob or no boobs at all."  

Thank you so much for your wonderful blog, Gabbie, and for continuing to share your story and support other women within this community.    

Hello everyone and welcome to our next wonderful guest blog!

Today’s blog is written by the lovely Casey.

Casey is 33 years old and BRCA1+. She had a prophylactic total hysterectomy on 26th May 2020 and a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy without reconstruction on 30th June 2020.

Casey’s mission is to help normalise flat closure among previvors and young women, as well as to inspire the flat-chested among us with outfit ideas as she “shops her closet” post-op.

Casey has always loved fashion and clothes and having no boobs has presented a fun new challenge for her as she gets dressed each day. 

Casey says that she is a beach girl through and through. She lives with her husband and three kids in St. Petersburg, FL, right near the Gulf of Mexico.She loves paddleboarding, reading NYT bestsellers, making art (collage mostly), and drinking iced coffee on road trips with her family.

Casey would love to connect with you all on Instagram @theflattiecloset!

Here’s Casey’s story in her own words:

“I have a hard time wearing high heels because I feel like I’m lying about my height. I’ve only ever dyed my hair with semi-permanent dye because I’m happy living with my natural hair color. I never liked the idea of push-up bras because they felt a little dishonest. Heck, I didn’t even get french tips for my wedding (all the rage when I got married) because I rarely painted my nails and I wanted to present myself accurately.

Now that I write that all out, I’m realizing how completely neurotic I sound. But stick with me! The point of these bizarre confessions is this: I like feeling like the person that I was made to be. Celebrating my unique genetic makeup. Being the one and only Casey. Being my true self (cue the Disney ballad). 

So: when a BRCA1 gene mutation reared its ugly head and I needed to do something about it, I wanted to simply morph into a new, natural version of me: a girl who was losing her boobs in an effort to prevent cancer, and gaining some pretty badass scars in the process. In fact, I barely even gave implants the time of day. I knew in my heart of hearts that I wanted to go flat and stay flat. That might sound pretty crazy to most women my age, and I get it. I basically turned down a boob job. And believe me, after breastfeeding three babies, my chest could have used the revitalization. But in the end, I had to be true to who I am, and that meant opting out of further reconstructive surgery. Just scars, just flat, just my skin on my ribs. 

I knew that women went flat – I’d seen information online that indicated it was an option post-mastectomy. But when I went to search the all-knowing Google, all I found was very limited information, some clinical photos of scars, and a few forum accounts of breast cancer survivors who had gone flat. To be honest, I didn’t feel like I fit in. I wasn’t a breast cancer survivor, I wasn’t middle-aged; I was “just” a previvor in her 30s. 

I started to wonder if there really was anyone else out there like me. Did women actually just walk around and go to the grocery store flat? Were they self-conscious at all? Would I regret my decision? Would it be good to get a prosthesis? How would clothes fit? Could I still wear what was in my closet? What did not having breasts feel like? How would my brain process not having boobs anymore? 

The questions kept coming. But my biggest question was: where were the flatties? Specifically, where were the previvor flatties? 

I turned to Instagram, and began searching all kinds of flat hashtags. Once I’d waded through the photos posted by owners of Flat-Coated Retrievers (yeah, the main “flattie” hashtag is co-opted by dogs – face palm), I started to get somewhere. I found a small army of amazing women to follow, but I also began to learn that flat closure after a mastectomy was an option that had been fought for for years by a crusade of brave individuals. This group of women had been campaigning, dealing with botched surgeries, picketing for their rights, and advocating for all women to get the surgery results they desired. Going flat was a bigger deal than I initially realized – it didn’t used to be such a simple, easy decision to make.

It’s because of these women that my breast surgeon didn’t flinch when I asked her for a flat closure. She was aware because this group of women had fought to make doctors like her aware, and for that I am so very grateful. Not only did I find the flatties, but I found that those flatties were beautiful and badass. 

I’m now proud to join the crew as a newbie, adding my voice to the mix, sharing my love of fashion, and writing honestly about life as a flat previvor. I am still slowly trying to find more women who are previvors like me who have chosen to go flat – if you are one, give me a shout! We seem to be few and far between, and that’s one of the main reasons I started my Instagram account – I want to connect with you!

I want to be able to talk about what life looks like for those of us who haven’t fought cancer, but still need to fight genetic mutations. I want to showcase what clothes look like on a flat chest, and encourage women considering a flat closure that being fashionable is still an option. I want flatties and potential flatties to know that life can be good even without lady parts; that we are free to be ourselves, no matter what form that takes. 

And I especially want previvor flatties to know that their stories are valid and important, and they are not alone.”

Thank you so much, Casey. We love Casey’s mission to connect with and support other previvor flatties.

Like Casey, we are so passionate about doing what we can to ensure that you feel empowered and confident and that no woman in this community feels isolated and alone.

We have another fabulous guest blog for you today. It’s a real pleasure to introduce Alison (@alisonwillie8). Alison describes herself as a busy wife, mum of two, receptionist at Leeds Gymnastics Club, business owner, proud Sheffield Wednesday fan. She says she is half way to being a proud previvor!

Alison has written about her experiences finding out about the history of breast cancer in her family, undergoing genetic testing and ultimately the decisions she has made upon learning about the BRCA1 genetic mutation. Here’s Alison’s story:

“I sat in the doctors surgery aged 20 and told my GP that I was worried that breast cancer was going to come for me. Dramatic perhaps, but my nan had just died of it not long before. She’d had it twice and watching her suffer had affected me deeply. Despite my concern, the doctor did not seem worried and I was sent on my way.

Fast forward 18 years and there I am again, sat in my doctors surgery. This time advising them that the BRCA1 gene mutation had been discovered after my nan’s only surviving sister had undergone genetic testing. This time, luckily, I got a very different response.

I was asked to draw a family tree and mark those who’d had a cancer diagnosis and or had died from it. I knew there was a history running down my dad’s side of the family but only once it was there in black and white did it really hit home just how scarily real this was.

Breast cancer had taken the lives of so many relatives and there was absolutely no way that I was going to become another name on that list!

I planned to pursue the testing on my own, without anyone knowing. I didn’t want people worrying and just wanted to know where I stood so I could do something about it.

When the family history forms arrived though, it was obvious that it just couldn’t work that way. There were too many questions that I simply didn’t know the answers to.

A few months later a letter arrived with an appointment to see the genetic counselor. I didn’t like the sound of that! Why did I need to see a counselor when I know what I wanted?!

I convinced myself that they would try and talk me out of it, that they’d say I didn’t need testing. I spent days before the appointment planning how I would argue my case.

In reality I couldn’t have been more wrong. They were nothing but supportive. The genetic counselor completely understood that I was a mum, that I needed to know if I carried the gene mutation too, not only to make sure I was alive to see my children grow up but also so I could prepare them for the chances of also carrying it. The bloods were taken there and then and so began the wait.

The call came during our family holiday.

I knew what she was going to say. I had long since made peace with the likelihood of it being positive and as crazy as it sounds I felt relieved to know now where I stood.

That’s not to say I wasn’t upset. I was. That word, positive, had now changed things. Yes, it meant choices regarding my body but that’s not what got me. It was the 50/50 odds of me having passed it on to my kids that I found hard to accept. All a parent wants is to protect their children and I felt like I’d failed in that.

Always one to be in the know, I set about researching. Along the way I found not only information but people, just like me. I call them my “BRCA buddies”. They are such amazingly strong women. So open and honest and always prepared to share their stories, even the gory, personal bits. It was just what I needed. They were getting through their journey and so could I. And maybe I could repay the favour in the future and help other people too. I felt empowered.

Appointments came through pretty quickly from there. Specialist breast nurse, breast & gynae surgeons and my first round of annual screening.

Anyone who’s been through a breast MRI will know what an odd experience it is. I don’t think I’ve ever laid in a more uncomfortable position; face down, arms overhead with boobs dangling down through two holes in the table, oh and don’t forget the evening primrose capsules they tape to your nipples! Writing that, I have to laugh but at the time it’s not quite so funny.

A couple of days before Christmas I got a letter calling me back for more tests.

I called, desperately wanting to know what they’d seen. All they could tell me was that it was something on the right side, close to my arm pit. That was when I really did start to worry.

I tried to put it out of my mind. I didn’t want to spoil Christmas. Luckily, after a few anxious hours of what felt like endless mammograms and ultra sounds they decided that it was just my breast tissue and nothing to be concerned about. Phew! I was so relieved but I was then adamant, no way could I do this every year. For me there was no other option. I wanted rid of every part of my body that was going to try and kill me!

I’d always thought that I would have my mastectomy first as I deemed my boobs to be my biggest threat but while still waiting to see the breast surgeon I was offered a date for the hysterectomy and decided to just get one out of the way as soon as possible! I was fast approaching 40 and just didn’t want this hanging over for me any longer.

The operation went well and the recovery was quick. I was so glad I’d done it. I now felt like things were moving and it was a relief.

A few weeks post surgery I was offered a date for my mastectomy. March 25th. I couldn’t believe my luck. Both operations would be done and dusted. I’d be able to celebrate the big 40 with new boobs… that wouldn’t need holding up by a bra! For the first time in years I was going to wear whatever dress I wanted without having to worry about scaffolding!

3 days before the big day, COVID happened and my mastectomy was put on hold and now we wait again.

While completely understandable It was also frustrating. I’d packed my bag. I’d prepared the kids. My husband and I had prepared ourselves.

Lockdown brought many positives though. We got to spend more time together as a family, we took steps to get fit and be more healthy and in a bid to do something other than attempting to home school my 12 year old daughter and 13 year old autistic son, I set up my own business with Forever Living, sharing high quality aloe Vera products to support people trying to look and feel better.

Hopefully I won’t have too long to wait now. I can’t wait to finish this journey and be able to wear my previvor badge with pride!

I want to finish by saying a toast…. Here’s to those who are no longer with us, but who in death gave us the key to knowledge. The knowledge that gives us choices. Choices that mean we are in control of our own destiny and also mean we get to see our kids grow up. Cheers everyone. “

Thank you, Alison, for trusting us to share your story. We know you were apprehensive about the act of writing it all down but you needn’t have worried – we think your writing is wonderful and approachable and we empathised no end. (We vividly remember the undignified MRI set up!) Your story is important and we are honoured to share it!

It’s our absolute pleasure to introduce the next in our series of guest blogs. Please meet the wonderful Christen Williams who you may also know as BRCAchatter. Christen speaks very passionately about her experience of discovering she has a BRCA2 gene mutation on both Instagram and Youtube. She has produced some really fabulous videos explaining what BRCA gene mutations are and documenting her experience of a risk reducing mastectomy (and beyond!).

If you don’t already follow her, what are you waiting for?!

Christen has written a wonderful blog for us today in which she speaks about body image and feeling beautiful after surgery. Take it away, Christen!

“What makes you feel beautiful and sexy? Is it the skin you’re in, or the clothes you’re in? Can your clothes help if you’re unhappy with your body? The answer is yes – clothes and lingerie have a unique power to empower us.

In 2018, my surgeon said to me, “I’d be happy if you chose a double mastectomy, or I would be happy if you chose regular screening to catch breast cancer early… it’s your choice either way.”

I sat there thinking, “I’d be happy if you made the decision, Doc, save me the anguish!” But he could not, and I had a lot of thinking to do.

In 2015, after my mother died of ovarian cancer, I discovered I carried a rare genetic mutation of my BRCA2 gene. This meant that I had an up to 85% lifetime chance of developing breast cancer. Over the next few years, I would slowly learn to detach from the beautiful ticking time bombs on my chest and view all boobs in a whole new light… leading me to sit in front of the Doc and ponder my life choices.

A lot of us hate our boobs – some studies say up to 85%. Too small, too big, too saggy, too booby. I fell between love and hate. I loved their size (28FF), big and bouncy. I hated them without a bra. Big and droopy. As soon as I was told I could lose them, the love hate relationship amplified. I loved them SO much, don’t cut them off, and I hated everything they stood for – they had failed me. To lop or not to lop?

This decision comes down to body image, and how we view our bodies. It is not helped by the view of society, which sexualises women’s boobs. Boobs are used to sell cars, KFC, and squash. Yet women are battling across the world to breastfeed in public without being shamed and judged. Losing my boobs meant I would never be able to breastfeed. Was I thinking about that? Hell no. I was more concerned about having a boob reduction and losing my cleavage. 

Many things swayed my decision to opt for the mastectomy. At one point, I casually said to my genetic counsellor, “Well, if my cancer is caught early, I can get rid of it.” And she just looked at me blankly and said, “Yeah, but you might die!” To the point. My second surgeon said, “You need to figure out whether your boobs are your biggest priority in life!” When you put it like that, it becomes boobs or death? It’s a no brainer, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy decision. 

I spent a lot of time living life, touching my boobs, staring at other women’s boobs. To be honest, I probably looked like a bit of a boob perve. When I put on a bra, I would mourn for its future loss in the bin. I made a big deal of going to Bravissimo and buying “my final bra” and “my final bikini”. Every time I went to yoga I would be doing the cow, cat or dog and admiring my boobs in my final sports bra. The mastectomy loomed over me, like a giant big-boobed elephant in every room I entered.

As I started to learn about potential complications of a mastectomy, I significantly lowered my expectations. When you hear about infections, tissue death and implant removal, suddenly size doesn’t matter, and a painless, quick recovery does. I prepared for the worst, so I could be pleasantly surprised when the worst didn’t happen. The worst never came for me; I was lucky (Doc says I wasn’t lucky, just young and healthy).

I would love to go back in time. Into all those rooms with the big-boobed elephant, and say to it, “You will love your faux boobs. ” (Foobs.) I would love to tell myself that I am the same size. Those final bras and bikinis I bought? I can still wear them. All those dresses? I can still wear them, even braless. I want to drift back to the past and reassure myself, and all other women waiting for a mastectomy, that you find a way through and you learn to love yourself again.

One of the worst things? Our choices of lingerie are somewhat limited. We are supposed to avoid underwire bras. Valiant saves the day here – I am so proud to support this company, which gives hope to all the foobilicious figures out there. In my old bras, I look the same. In my old clothes I look the same. But, new foobs require new lingerie – they needed to be celebrated for all they stand for. Life savers.”

Thank you so much for sharing your story with us, Christen.

You can find Christen on brcachat.com, on Instagram (@BRCAchatter) and on Youtube.