Chicken Scratch

No, really. Breasts are awesome - and I don't mean that as an exclusive, x cup size, areola ratio, nipple color, or any other narrow criteria under which we socially define ideal boobs. Most womens' breasts are no more the uniform airbrushed magazine perfection than the rest of their bodies are, and that's okay - and beautiful, and fun. I will edit to add the link later, but there is a totally awesome web gallery of real breasts - ranging from ones that look straight out of a porno flick to saggy baggy nursed-a-dozen-children breasts and they are all FREAKING FANTASTIC. [ETA: Click for the "Normal Breasts Gallery," excellent website.

Now let's talk about fictional boobs. Fantasy fiction in particular is very guilty of putting forth only idealized physical formats of women (and men, too - that's a rant for another day), and in erotica? Forget most anything but a "supple, heaving bosom." I get it - we're catering to an audience, and the audience may prefer this over realistic portrayals of breasts just as they prefer reading about wizards to, I don't know, the guy who works at the car wash. I still worry, however, about the rampant body-shame in our culture, and how our fictional people too seldom reflect real people in just about every possible way.

Back to breasts: I have a pretty obvious and large scar on one of my breasts, and you'll see smaller ones on closer inspection. People have noticed this, and their reactions have not been universally positive - uncomfortable, mostly. This is exactly one drop of piss in the ocean compared to the body shame and rejection often experienced by women who have had mastectomies, which in addition to the distortion or loss of breast tissue is often accompanied by some fairly radical scarring, sometimes including the outright removal of the nipple and areola. So I was just beyond thrilled to come across the scar project, which seeks to raise awareness about and promote screening for breast cancer in young women. It includes beautiful, artistic portraits of breast cancer survivors, and their breasts. It was wonderful and powerful and very much worth looking at.

Anyways, the scar project got me thinking about breasts and women (who am I kidding, I'm always thinking about breasts and women), specifically in regards to my writing. I am aware of two patterns in my writing in regards to my portrayal of women: I have a lot of empowered, body-positive women, and a lot of women with bodies that are pretty classically beautiful, even if not necessarily the busty, bubble-assed Spike TV format. I find both of these things unrealistic; sadly, a lot of women are not comfortable with their bodies. And while my female characters tend to have physical flaws and imperfections, they do fall within a pretty narrow "type" that I don't find honest, accurate, or fair. I am not changing well-established characters at this point. My best bet is an apology to my readers. However...

This long line of ramble is my explanation/justification for what's under the cut. I write deliberately, and yes, I absolutely did write this scene and include this change to the character specifically because I want to comment on body image, body insecurity, beauty, and the celebration of the female body even when it doesn't fall within the narrow lines of "ideal."

She was fidgeting, uncomfortable, even insecure - not something I was accustomed to from Sreya, but then, this wasn't quite her. Kissing the curve of her jaw once before rubbing my cheek along it, I pulled back from the tension of her body with a soft smile.

"If you're having second thoughts..."

She shook her head, made a forehead-bunching, worrisome sort of face before saying,

"You know, this body... it isn't going to be like Sreya's."

With a surprised laugh, I teasingly replied,

"Are you sure? I distinctly remember her as a cute little Korean lesbian."

That earned a smile, but one that collapsed too easily. I tilted her chin up gently with my fingertips.

"Hey - I have no complaints about getting to learn another body. This one gave you back to me; I trust that I will love every inch of it."

She leaned forward to kiss me then, only a gentle brush of her lips, but withdrew with still too much a frown on them. Heartbreaking.

"Oh," I hugged her close to my body, resting my chin atop her head. "Come now, all this insecurity is unbecoming of a woman like you. What is this really about?"

Sun laughed softly against my chest.

"Trust me, body shame is something that doesn't sit well with me either - but it was here when I took up residence." She shrugged helplessly, then paused. "Did you know that Sun was a breast cancer survivor?"

She leaned back, scanning my face for a reaction. I let it be a billboard of honesty lest she doubt the words.

"I did not. I'm only further impressed, now."

"Likewise - but. This was years ago. Treatment was less refined, and consequently..." she clasped her hands, a resigned gesture. "There was reconstructive surgery later on, but I have deeply stinging memories of being rejected on account of... well."

She slid her shirt up over her head with trembling hands, then struggled with the clasp of her bra before cursing in frustration.

"May I?"

At her nod, I unhooked the garment, let the straps slide gently down her shoulders. What she bared were two lovely breasts: generous for her small frame, faintly lined and softly sagging from the loss of weight Amulwara had once alluded to. The left was devoid of a nipple and traversed by a ragged purple scar. When my gaze fell on this, the corner of her mouth ticked with insecurity. Mine, I pressed to it, kissed softly, felt the texture of the flesh where cancer had been cut away under my lips.

"Amazing," I breathed against her skin, resting my cheek against her warmth. "How could anyone see the strength of this body and not find it amazing?"

She was still tense, though, back rigid against my palms, so I lifted my face and searched her eyes for a reason. Reading the gesture, she smiled a little sadly and explained,

"People always use words like "strong" for imperfect bodies - never beautiful."

I laughed - not a happy sound, the weight of contrition and empathy heavy in it.

"I apologize if I misspoke. I thought beautiful was a given; you are positively gorgeous." I kissed her cheek. "And please, don't wear words like "imperfect," woman. They don't fit you."