I sat shirtless in the oversize, faux leather examining chair as he eyed the twin slits remaining on my chest four weeks after the mastectomy. I slipped a C-cup silicone breast prosthesis out of one side of the bra I'd worn into the office. "I used to be an A-cup. Can you match this?" He palmed the three-dimensional, triangular blob and then pressed it against one of my incisions, using the tips of his fingers to hold it in place. "I don't see why not. You're tall--you can carry any volume you want. Let's go with a 350 cc."
As a cancer patient, I felt a little sheepish asking for bigger breasts. I worried I was selling out to our society's beauty standard. But another part of me wanted the fun, sexiness, and visual appeal of a larger bustline.