Blue Peter Boobies.

Almost as distressing as losing a left boob, my hair, and quite a lot of my dignity over the last few months, is the cost of mastectomy bikinis. Now, I’ve always objected quite heavily to paying handsomely for anything which is basically a couple of pieces of string and two cloth triangles to keep your tits held up on the beach, but holidays are the only time I ever seem to think about having my photo taken (weirdly, I tend not to capture the memories of everyday family life, such as shoving fish fingers in the oven, screaming at the kids, or filing away the gas bill.) So, it’s nice to go on holiday with a few decent clothes, and wear something that makes me feel good on photos and in the sun.

We’re now on our much-anticipated family holiday, which marks a new start for us all – and while I would probably have been happy enough to sit in a tshirt, just for the joy of feeling some warmth on my skin, I didn’t want to miss out on being able to splash around in the pool with my boys. They’ve had little enough of me lately as it is.

Marks and Sparks, and George at Asda, do a couple of good and inexpensive mastectomy swimsuits… but I don’t want a swimsuit. I’m not even 40. Even though I’m still in the process of shedding the Chemo Stone (not easy when there’s always free booze and a buffet) I want to wear a bikini. This summer, I’ve discovered that mastectomy bikinis are generally available on specialist cancer websites at around £120.

Having lost my husband to cancer and gone through a year of treatment on my own, I want our children and I to live our lives to the full – and spending ridiculous sums on a piece of cloth with a pocket in which to stuff my falsie is not part of the deal. £120 could buy us more days out and holiday memories, and making memories is something our family will never regret.

So, here’s what I made earlier. In light of the missing cleavage situation, I’ve bought some ordinary bandeau bikinis from a high street shop for about a tenner each. They have little pockets in the side with a boob-shaped insert, presumably to keep everything looking even, and to minimise the chilly post-swim “light switch nipple” situation.

I’ve stuffed some quick-dry material in the pockets (the same stuff as those exfoliator puff things you use in the shower;) enough to match the other side. It sits quite happily behind the insert, safely and comfortably, doesn’t lose its shape, and dries out quickly after a swim. You would simply never know. (And as a bonus, I don’t need to worry about my false boob falling out and bobbing around in the pool.)

It’s hard enough having to lose such an important part of my body, but it’s even harder when doing normal things like swimming become seemingly unaffordable. Although I won’t be able to wear anything with a cleavage until after my reconstruction next year, there’s no reason why I – and so many other women – shouldn’t be able to join in with the simple pleasures in life. I know I’m not a big lady, but given the way bandeau bikini tops squish everything a little flatter, I don’t see why it couldn’t work for everyone. I’ve also decided to keep the straps on, so it’s less likely to end up around my neck, half way down a water slide.

Nobody here has noticed that I’m any differently endowed than anyone else. I guess they will if I decide to pop up (or out) over here…

Love Fanny x


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