Getting used to it?

While I'm not there yet, I can anticipate a time when this really will all be behind me. I am getting glimpses of a feeling of permanent change that maybe, someday, won't be so profound. The sheer shock of seeing myself in a mirror hasn't worn off yet, but the whole-ness of my body is starting to become real again in my head.

It's still weird, don't get me wrong. When I lie on my back my "breasts" point at the ceiling instead of falling into my armpits. I still feel like a Barbie doll in dress-up clothes (though, with a added middle-aged abdomen, unfortunately) when I think about it, but I am starting to think about it less. I am just a little less self-conscious in public, without constantly thinking that everyone can tell that I've been re-built. If it weren't for the fact that I anticipate and experience pain with each movement, there might be whole hours that don't involve self-absorbed rumination about how life will be from now on, what I am or am not capable of doing.

I guess what saying is that I don't feel so damaged, so mutilated anymore. I'm getting comfortable enough these days to stop dwelling on it, every minute of every day. I'm slowly assembling a new picture of myself, as I am now. I am starting to forget what was and how it used to be, and the comparisons are fading because I no longer trust my memory of the old body image. This is the vessel that is here and now, and it is starting to overtake what was.

This must be progress, yes?