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pecuniumI was be-bopping around and saw a link to the Century project (portraits of women, nude, with comments by them).
http://www.thecenturyproject.com/photos.htm
This one stunned me.
"Today I am wearing long and flowing purple without my false front and feeling stunning. What do I mean my false front? My prosthesis that mimics that diseased part of my body that was cut away years ago to save my life. My fake boob, my rubber tit, my concession to society's denial that women lose breasts every day. My bra goes along with the farce, holding my other breast high and firm like a sixteen-year old's that has never seen battle. Well, my breast is not high and firm, it hangs from my chest and rolls when I walk. It has nourished and nurtured dozens of children and it smiles at the memory of those lips that have rested there. Tiny rosebud lips and grown men's lips, all there for the same thing, nourishment and nurturing. There is a shooting-star shaped scar on my breast, a sickle, a half moon. There are crevices where the skin has stretched taut with passion and stretched full with milk. No, this is no sixteen-year old nubile breast, it is the breast of a warrior woman, proud and regal."
Jacqueline , 39.
I marvel, awestruck, at the attitude, "bloody, but unbowed," and wonder what sort of trial it was to come to grips with the loss, the change, which comes from having a part of one removed.
Kudos to her.
http://www.thecenturyproject.com/photos.htm
This one stunned me.
"Today I am wearing long and flowing purple without my false front and feeling stunning. What do I mean my false front? My prosthesis that mimics that diseased part of my body that was cut away years ago to save my life. My fake boob, my rubber tit, my concession to society's denial that women lose breasts every day. My bra goes along with the farce, holding my other breast high and firm like a sixteen-year old's that has never seen battle. Well, my breast is not high and firm, it hangs from my chest and rolls when I walk. It has nourished and nurtured dozens of children and it smiles at the memory of those lips that have rested there. Tiny rosebud lips and grown men's lips, all there for the same thing, nourishment and nurturing. There is a shooting-star shaped scar on my breast, a sickle, a half moon. There are crevices where the skin has stretched taut with passion and stretched full with milk. No, this is no sixteen-year old nubile breast, it is the breast of a warrior woman, proud and regal."
Jacqueline , 39.
I marvel, awestruck, at the attitude, "bloody, but unbowed," and wonder what sort of trial it was to come to grips with the loss, the change, which comes from having a part of one removed.
Kudos to her.
