515 on Both Sides and Still Not Even

515 on Both Sides and Still Not Even

🌼 Date: Tuesday, July 21, 2026

⚡ Energy: Confused, questioning, and slightly lopsided

💖 Status: Plastics appointment day

😉 Outlook: The math is mathing, but the boobs are not boobing

Today I had a plastics appointment, and we are officially at 515cc on both sides.

Yes.

Both sides.

Same number.

Same amount of saline.

Same measurement.

And yet?

We are anything but even.

Because apparently breast reconstruction math is not regular math.

It is cancer math.

And cancer math is rude.

To illustrate how much space the tissue expander is filling next to my chest wall, you can see in the picture how uneven my boobs still are.

Both expanders are filled to 515cc now, but the left side is still sitting differently because of everything that happened on that side.

The larger tumor was in my left breast, up against the chest wall.

When they removed it, they had to take what they needed to take to try to get clean margins.

And because that tumor was close to the chest wall, radiation was heavily focused there afterward.

So now I have this area on the left side where the tissue expander is not just creating a boob shape outward.

It is also filling in that missing space inward.

Basically, my left expander has extra homework.

The right side is over there saying, “Look at me, I’m becoming a boob.”

And the left side is saying, “Hold please, I am still filling a crater.”

Very glamorous.

Very medical.

Very much not the free boob job people think this is.

I left today’s appointment with more questions.

Because of course I did.

That is apparently my new hobby.

Question number one:

Do I have to stay this uneven until my exchange surgery?

Because I sure hope not.

I am starting to think I might have to wear a bra just so I can put some padding in the left side to even myself out.

Which is annoying because I have been thoroughly enjoying not wearing a bra.

But walking around with one shoulder rolled forward trying to hide the unevenness is probably not going to cut it much longer.

My posture is already struggling.

My confidence is already trying to find its way home.

And my left side being visibly smaller is not exactly helping.

Question number two is more of a thought, so stay with me here.

I know my plastic surgeon has told me several times that she will even me out during the exchange surgery.

That is where she really works her magic.

That is where the expanders come out, the gummy bear implants go in, and she gets to decide what size, shape, and possible extra work is needed to make things look balanced.

I know that.

I trust that.

But here is where my brain is stuck.

Doesn’t the skin on the left side need to be stretched enough to match the right side?

I mean, she cannot put a larger implant on the left side to match the right side visually if the skin is not stretched big enough to cover the implant, right?

Again, I am not a doctor.

I am just a woman with uneven medical chest balloons and access to mirrors.

Dangerous combination.

So I think next week I need to ask if the next step is adding saline to the left side until it visually matches the right side.

That is, of course, if the right side is where I want it to be.

Which brings us to my weekend homework.

Bra shopping.

Yes.

A bra trying-on party.

Not because I am excited to wear bras again.

Let’s not be ridiculous.

But because I need to figure out what size I actually am right now.

I came into this whole thing as a D cup.

My surgeon told me I could leave a D cup.

But after trying on one of my BC bras — Before Cancer — and realizing I barely filled half the cup, my brain has been spiraling.

Am I a B?

A C?

Almost there?

Not even close?

Do I still want to be a D?

Does a D look different on this smaller body after the weight loss?

Do I need to go as big as I was before cancer to feel like myself again?

Or would smaller boobs actually fit this version of me better?

Welcome to another episode of Cancer Messes With Your Mind.

This week’s topic: bra cups and emotional damage.

So this weekend, I need to go somewhere and try on bras.

But not just anywhere.

I need a store that does not have a dressing room situation policed like Fort Knox, because Casey needs to come with me.

And I know some people might be thinking:

“Why does Casey need to go with you to try on bras?”

Let me explain.

Casey has been with me every single step of the way.

Every appointment.

Every surgery.

Every drain.

Every bandage.

Every fill.

Every scary conversation.

Every weird body change.

Every moment where I needed someone beside me because I could not carry this alone.

He has been my chaperone at every appointment.

He has been my nurse.

He has changed my dressings.

He has applied ointments and lotions to help me heal.

He was the first person to see the aftermath when I came out of surgery.

He has seen the scars.

The swelling.

The redness.

The radiation damage.

The expander weirdness.

The unevenness.

The tears.

The jokes.

The fear.

The body image crashes.

The “do I look okay?” moments.

He has seen all of it.

So yes, he is absolutely the right person to bring with me.

He is probably the most qualified person on earth to help me figure out if I am getting close to the same size I was before cancer.

He will be honest with me if I try to go too big.

He will be honest with me if I am not there yet.

And he will also remind me that my worth is not sitting inside a bra cup, even when my brain forgets.

That matters.

Because this part is hard.

The numbers say 515 and 515.

But my reflection says something else.

The medical chart says progress.

But the mirror says uneven.

The surgeon says she can fix it.

But my brain says, “Are we sure?”

Cancer makes you question everything.

Your body.

Your choices.

Your size.

Your shape.

Your confidence.

Your posture.

Your future.

Your reflection.

And somehow, even when you are making progress, it can still feel like you are standing in front of the mirror trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.

But I am trying.

I am asking questions.

I am learning.

I am advocating for myself.

I am trying to figure out what will make me feel comfortable in this body again.

And if that means a weekend bra party with Casey in some store fitting room situation that hopefully does not involve security guards and a walkie-talkie, then so be it.

Because this is not about vanity.

It is not about wanting perfect boobs.

It is not about being difficult.

It is about trying to feel like me again.

It is about trying to stand up straight.

It is about trying to put my shoulders back.

It is about figuring out what size, shape, and plan will help me move forward with confidence.

So yes, today both sides are at 515cc.

And no, they are not even.

Not yet.

But we are getting closer.

The blueprint is still being adjusted.

The construction zone is still active.

The final reveal is still somewhere ahead.

And Tiny Tina still has questions.

Lots of them.

Lucky for everyone, I am not afraid to ask.

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One Badass Day at a Time