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2016. The day before my 'chosen' surgery. A day of reclaiming my body, celebrating what was, and looking forward to what would be. Using the paint from my young daughter's paintbox, paper from her craft kit, I daubed myself in blue woad and memorialised my soon-to-be-no-more remaining left breast, wondering if the scar would look like the scar where my right breast had once been, conscious of the eight years that had passed since my mum lost her own left breast. A day of intention and creation, fully immersed in my body.
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