Swimsuits and Scars: Learning to Embrace My Body

These scars are so much more than imperfections to me. These scars gave me my life back. If I didn’t learn to embrace them, I never would.

In March 2019 at age 33, I underwent a bilateral mastectomy to remove the cancer in my body. Right before they rolled me into surgery, I made a joke about how it was just in time for bikini season. The words may have been intended as a joke, but to me, they were anything but.

We’ve all seen photos of women bearing scars after this surgery, and unless you have them yourself, you’ll never truly know what goes into wearing them. Medical post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) can be traumatizing for many, and in my opinion, body confidence is the hardest pill to swallow.

The internet in 2022 would have you believe that worldwide body positivity is well underway. I believe the real viewpoint is that body positivity is fantastic — if you fit into the usual shapes and sizes humans are naturally born with.

Human beings will stare at an unusual scar without even realizing it, and it can make even the most confident people take a pause to rethink their bodies. It magnifies insecurities and can alter the way a person operates in the future.

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Gaining a purpose

I went through a successful reconstruction to make me feel somewhat normal after my cancer, even if that meant it only improved how I felt with my clothes on.

While wearing a simple triangle-shaped bikini top at the pool a year later, my mastectomy scars visibly hung out. I noticed two smaller children staring at my scars in confusion.

Their mother approached me minutes later and politely tried to tell me she thought my nipple was hanging out. I told her that was physically impossible and explained they were just scars still darkened from surgery the year prior. She apologized endlessly, but I still put my shirt on and left feeling uncomfortable.

The simple interaction I had at the pool gave me a purpose. I went from store to store trying on every type of swimsuit I could find to make myself feel better.

Finding anything with padding that rounded out a chest was off-limits since every one of them caved in seeing as my chest was no longer round. Finding something that didn’t show the indents of my scars was impossible because it made it obvious I no longer owned nipples. Finding something that didn’t reveal them or make me feel worse seemed like an endless task by the end of the day.

It’s OK to be a little broken

I drove home sobbing in my car for what seemed like an eternity. I had worked so hard to lose the weight I had gained during chemotherapy from all the required steroids, and I was so proud of the progress I had made.

All I wanted to do was go to the pool and not think about cancer for a few moments. Didn’t I and every other man or woman in my position deserve that?

After sobbing in my car, I sat there for a few more minutes, wondering what my options were. Then, as if it was something I should’ve known all along, it dawned on me that it’s OK to be a little bit broken.

I recalled a story my husband once told me about a vase. He said that, in some countries, vases that break are repaired with gold glue and pieced back together. The finished product is an imperfect, one-of-a-kind, completely new piece of beautiful art that’s worth more than the original vase itself.

At that moment, I decided to be that vase. These scars are so much more than imperfections to me. These scars gave me my life back. If I didn’t learn to embrace them, I never would.

The very next day, I woke up and threw on a simple two-piece tank-style bathing suit and arrived at the pool. I decided to just let them look.

My scars were clearly visible since my odd-shaped chest couldn’t have padding on top of it, but I was OK with it. People stared, but I took the opportunity to educate them on breast cancer and why those scars are fine to show.

Your own journey to confidence

That one good cry in my car mixed with a story about a vase changed how I saw my body. I don’t want you to read this and think it’s going to be that simple for you, though. It very well may be, however, it most likely will not.

Every survivor processes their trauma differently, and that’s what should be normalized more than any scar or bikini body. If I could hug you, I would. But since I can’t, I will instead gift you a few tips to help you with your own journey to confidence.

If you can mentally let your scars show, do it! You should know that those scars mean you’re walking this earth when many others do not get that chance.

Second, if you feel uncomfortable showing them, then try to find a suit with a pattern. Simple patterns or lace are your best friend. They help break up the new shape of your chest and make your scars less noticeable.

Beach coverups are also an amazing option. Many stores sell simple loose-fitting garments to cover your skin from sun exposure when you’re not in the water, and I find them very reassuring.

The bottom line

Whether you choose to bare your soul and your scars to the world or you wear a burlap sack to the beach, it’s OK. Never forget how valuable you are, and how alive you are. Live each moment as if it could be your last, and if you are a survivor reading this, you truly know how factual that can really be.

I choose to wake up every single day and live my very best life for those who aren’t here to do so. Grab your suit and join me, because bikini season is upon us again. I’ll be right there with you, feeling wildly uncomfortable and completely grateful to be there at the same time.