You know, I keep seeing advice about writing a letter or something to look back on later and lowk tumblr is a pseudo-journal for me sometimes soooo
It’s going to be okay. Deep down under the anxiety you know it is. This is a huge step, and it’s okay that you’re nervous.
Sure, there’s things you’ll miss, the hand warmer, the impromptu pocket, the shelf to catch things, having damn nice cleavage and the compliments you get from them.
But you know why you’re making this choice. The way people perceive you, the way your back hurts, the way you hate shopping for clothes and how they all fit. How they’re constantly in the way and hitting things. How so many potential partners are attached to them and you start questioning things. The fucking sweat rash. The acne.
It’s not even the change that has you anxious. It’s the pain and sick of recovery. It’s the drains which will only last a week. It’s the way you feel so. Helpless. Overstaying your welcome. You’re taking up a lot of space in your friends lives with this. And granted they’re being nice and supportive about it. But. Yeah.
I still feel like I’m not ready despite going over lists and quadruple checking everything. But simultaneously I feel fine because like. Idk what happens will happen.
And honestly I keep finding myself thinking about what’s to come following recovery. Feeling more comfortable with my body. The boobs have always been a factor in me not exercising as much as I want. I hate how they feel when they swing or bounce or anything. And I’m already starting physical therapy, so just an extension of that. Maybe I’ll actually stick with it.
It’s 7 minutes to midnight now and I’m getting up at 4 to make positive everything is good and ready, so I should probably go ahead and wrap this up.
amandla
areudirty
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
