Laura Been | The Foobs I Never Got | 2019
I met the plastic surgeon before I even met the surgical oncologist. I was so sunburned- red peeling across my chest and stripes from my strapless bikini top along my back. (A day at the beach, the middle of summer, my best friend’s birthday, the hankering for distraction after the word “positive” was stamped on my previously empty chart). She took photos for the reshaping and pulled out a basket from under her desk full of different textures and shapes, flopping in our hands like those 90s wiggler toys that were made to slip out of grasp, detached from bodies or milk making or sex or nipples.