Coconut Water, Dr. Pepper, and Gummy Bears

Coconut Water, Dr. Pepper, and Gummy Bears

🌼 Date: Thursday, August 6, 2026

⚡ Energy: Plastics appointment and boob math

💖 Status: Lefty got 35 more cc’s

😊 Outlook: Holding pattern, with possible gummy bears on the horizon

Today was another trip to plastics.

And maybe my last one for a while.

Maybe.

Cancerland does love a good “we’ll see.”

While I was there today, I found out my plastic surgeon had given the nurses permission to fill me up to 600cc on either side.

This was news to me.

Not bad news.

Just one of those little medical plot twists where apparently there was a number floating around in my chart that I did not know about.

My right side is sitting at 515cc, and honestly, I am happy with where it is.

It is pretty close to a D cup, which is where I wanted to land, so we are leaving Righty alone.

Righty is behaving.

Righty may stay seated and enjoy her snack.

Lefty, however, has been a little more complicated.

My left side was at 565cc, and after living with it for the past week, it has done some settling.

And once everything settled, it became noticeably smaller than the right side again.

Because of course it did.

Apparently, Lefty is still the dramatic one.

So I asked her to pump it up some.

That is when we found out about the 600cc limitation.

Since Lefty was already at 565cc, we could only add 35cc today.

So now Lefty is officially at 600cc.

Righty is still at 515cc.

And that is where we are going to live for a little while.

And because my brain apparently needed a real-world comparison, I looked it up.

515cc is about 17.5 ounces, which is roughly the size of some of those popular grab-and-go coconut waters.

600cc is about 20 ounces, which is basically a convenience store Dr. Pepper.

So apparently, until exchange surgery, I may be walking around with one coconut water and one Dr. Pepper attached to my chest.

Hydration on the right.

Caffeine and questionable life choices on the left.

Eventually, those will be replaced with gummy bears.

Which honestly feels like the most Tina version of reconstruction math possible.

My next appointment is not until the end of the month, and that one is with my plastic surgeon herself.

At that appointment, she will assess the situation and decide what happens next.

If she is happy with how everything looks, then we will be in a holding pattern until my exchange surgery.

Hopefully early November.

Please let the scheduling gods be in a good mood.

If she sees something she thinks we can do better, or something that needs to be adjusted, then she will either do it herself or schedule more appointments and I will continue with fills.

That will only happen if she thinks we need more skin or tissue for her to work with during surgery.

And honestly, it is strange to think about how this whole process works.

From what I understand, the expanders are slowly stretching the skin and tissue, basically creating more space for the future implant.

So when I say I am getting new boobs, I guess I really am.

Not just in the obvious way.

Not just “out with the old boobs that tried to kill me.”

Although yes, absolutely out with those little traitors.

But I am also literally stretching and creating the space for what comes next.

My body is rebuilding the construction zone.

The skin is adapting.

The tissue is making room.

The medical chest rocks are doing their weird little job.

And eventually, hopefully, the gummy bear boobs will move in.

It is all very strange.

Very science-y.

Very body-horror-meets-home-renovation.

Like:

“Welcome back to Tiny Tina’s Reconstruction Zone. Today we are expanding the available square footage and preparing the property for new tenants.”

Except the property is my chest.

And the tenants are cohesive silicone implants.

And the landlord is tired.

But there is also something kind of powerful about it.

Because when people expect the old version of Tina to return, they may be disappointed.

Or confused.

Or surprised.

But honestly?

No one should be shocked.

There is not going to be an old version of Tina walking back into the world.

Not exactly.

That version went through surgery.

That version went through chemo.

That version went through radiation.

That version lost hair, lost weight, lost strength, lost energy, lost patience, lost both original boobs, and somehow still kept going.

She fought hard.

She survived.

She deserves respect.

But she is not coming back unchanged.

A whole new version is being built in her place.

And I do mean that in every sense of the word.

New perspective.

New boundaries.

New body.

New hair.

New wardrobe.

New scars.

New boobs.

New appreciation for peace.

New refusal to tolerate nonsense.

New understanding that healing is not the same as going backward.

Tina 2.0 is not just a cute phrase.

Apparently, it is an actual reconstruction project.

A little emotional.

A little physical.

A little medical.

A little snarky.

And currently sitting at one coconut water on the right and one Dr. Pepper on the left.

Because even my rebuild has uneven beverage math.

So now we wait.

Again.

We wait for the end-of-the-month appointment.

We wait to see what my plastic surgeon thinks.

We wait to find out if I am done with fills or if Lefty still needs more construction work.

We wait for the surgery schedule to open.

We wait for November.

We wait for the exchange.

We wait for the day these expanders are no longer my unwanted chest roommates.

But today, I am trying to see this as progress.

Lefty got her 35cc pep talk.

Righty is holding steady.

The construction zone is still active.

And Tina 2.0 is still loading.

One fill at a time.

One appointment at a time.

One weird medical milestone at a time.

Out with the old boobs that tried to kill me.

In with the new skin, new shape, new body, new boundaries, and eventually, the gummy bears.

Tiny Tina is not returning to factory settings.

She is getting rebuilt.

And honestly?

The upgrade package is starting to look pretty damn good.

Even if, for now, it comes in coconut water and Dr. Pepper sizes.

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One Badass Day at a Time