Sorry, folks, but somebody had to do it.
All this talk of Angelina and her implants has the womens mags in a tizz, resulting in a late afternoon request for an interview with me that fast turned into a photo session, and before I knew it, the removal of my top half.
Yup, I have bared the top of my shoulders and less than you'd see in a bikini top for a weekly mag.
Seriously. You'll see less of me on the news-stands next Sunday than you would in a swimsuit most weekdays at Next Gen gym or in my Spin class at the Y when I lean a little too far over the handlebars. It's that tasteful.
But still, I don't think I'll sleep tonight. There's something not very comfortable about purposefully removing your clothing and exposing even a few inches of flesh, to 105,000 magazine readers.
Some of them are going to be my clients. Others will be the people I sit on a board with. Oh, God, and then there's that committee. The bank manager. My lawyer. The guy at the Dairy. My kids' teachers. The people who work for me. The lady who checks me in in the Koru lounge for my regular weekly commute, come Monday. The people in my spin class. My friend K, who would rather pull all her fingernails out than make a spectacle of herself in the pages of a magazine. Relatives who never really understood why I did 'it' (the mastectomies) in the first place. The barista where get my coffee.
I can't help but wonder what they'll think. And whether they'll think I'm stark raving mad for getting...well...sort of starkers. In a seemly sort of a way.
But I didn't do it for them. I did it for the somebody, somewhere, who needs to learn to live with different breasts from the ones she was born with, but can't imagine life on the other side. Who some day might pick up that magazine and see that getting rid of those two globs of fat parked on her chest, isn't the end of the world. Who might, as a result, save her own life.
So I'm going to try and focus on what that woman thinks. And nothing else.
PS the breasts in this shot aren't actually mine - mine (the few inches you'll see of them) are embargoed until the mag publishes on Sunday.
I'll be the one at the checkout with a paper bag over my face.
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