There was some afternoon gathering. With a doctor.
I had cut off my breasts, so that they were complete, self contained, unbloody, cone line & dense pillows.
I did not have a memory of cutting them off. I only knew that the doctor would return that afternoon to put them back when it was more convenient.
And then the doctor brought in sanity, implants, why would I want the old bags anyway, except for the nipple.
Em tossed then around a bit too much and I thought the nipple of one stretched down too far, to the bottom and wasn't very aesthetic.
I had no sense of pain or loss. But these things felt solid, like tightly wrapped sandbags. Something that I had to remove for convenience.
Also,
I drove to Maine last weekend
I listened to too many lectures from the handsome guy at work.
Like getting myself off soda, I have to learn to associate the flatness at the main character of the thing.
And lose interest.
