The girls: Tattoos and Tata's! The final phase.

I took my break.  Enjoyed Christmas.  Attended Deana's funeral.  And fought by way through a very dark depression.  When my 42nd birthday arrived in March the haze was lifting and I was ready to move forward.

My surgeon had an aesthetician that had certified in cosmetic tattooing so I gave her a shot.

I was mostly healed from the attempt at nipples. Now we needed to add the areola by inking me baby!

I was pretty skeptical when she took a washer and put it on each breast with the faux nipple through the hole and traced it.  I mean really?  No one has perfect round areolas.  But whatever. 

Then she got out several colors of skin tone ink.  She asked me to pick.  Here we go again with the picking of things I shouldn't of ever had to pick.  I just let her pick.  Kind of a mistake. After the first round I looked like I had pepperoni for areolas. 

Holy cow these are waaaaay too dark and waaaaaay to round. 

But it didn't hurt.  I have no feeling on my breasts which is great for tattooing. 

I suddenly felt......like......I had breasts!  Boobs!  Tatas!  Titties!  Winning!

But I hated the color.  I had no clue if you could lighten them.  So on the next round she added a new color to make them less brown and more taupe/pink.  And she feathered the edges a bit. 

I still wasn't in love but they were improving. 

But it really as an amazing transformation in the making. (This is the cancer side)

You know when I look at these pics I don't see scars.  But I do see stretch marks.  I worked hard for those through childbearing.  Two kids, all natural. 

We decided on another pass.  She added another color.  Then they looked peach and I hated them. 

They didn't match in size or color.  I was sad.  I'd rather have the pepperoni. 

I gave her one more chance.  And it got better.  But the color was still weird to me. 

For the war I've been through they don't look all that bad.  Today they tattoos have faded to an ugly orange ish color which I hate.  But with millions in medical bills, I can't afford to have someone fix them with fresh ink and a better eye.  But a girl can dream.....

Trust me.  A girl can dream.  And dreaming of surviving and having this outcome was one I didn't think was possible.  I'm so glad dreams come true.