CHIARA
This wasn’t my plan.
At the age of 42 I found a lump on my breast and had chemotherapy, radiation, a double mastectomy, breast implants and eventually a metastatic breast cancer diagnosis.
As a young woman I felt detached from my body, having been taught it was dirty. I rebelled through cutting, an eating disorder, drug and alcohol addiction and abusive relationships, including the one with myself.
But at university I studied dance and choreography; I learned to be present in my body, aware of how I exist in relation to what’s around me and how I move through space. Via movement and touch I discovered I could use my body as a vehicle of expression.
You can imagine everything that felt threatened when I was told of the inner molecular change. I felt devastated, betrayed by my physical form.
After seven painful breast implant infections I chose to remain flat. After the surgery, I was terrified of looking in the mirror. Would I still be womanly without a female silhouette? To my surprise, the expression on my face showed great relief, I saw my self again! I questioned why I had ever put myself through numerous painful surgeries in an attempt to keep the female form for acceptance from my self and from others.
Ironically now that I’ve been disfigured, I observe myself in the mirror after showers more, so as to get used to the new map of my body. My story is written on my skin, via scars. My chest is the canvas for my story. I’m rediscovering and redefining my body and merging with the new one.
How do I want my body to be in this world? How do I relate to my surroundings? What can I do with this new body? What are my new pleasures? What are my limits? How far can I reach – and then can I reach further?
Am I still a woman without breasts? The rest of my body is female, and I identify with being a woman. I’m not less than anyone because I have fewer body parts. I accept myself as a woman without breasts. But am I still sexy as a woman without breasts? I’m the same person inside, and I believe we shine from the inside out, so sexy and beautiful is how I feel about myself.
My hair has grown back from chemotherapy its natural grey color; at first, I wasn’t ready for one more change. But I am a visual person, and so I sought images of women who own themselves unapologetically to help me transition into my new normal. Standing in the beautiful acceptance of the body-positivity movement is a deeply gratifying feeling. I thank the women who have come before me for their courage in speaking out and breaking stereotypes, it empowers me to do the same.
Every (birth) day is rejoiced as I’m honored to be growing older by the second.
