Això sí que es una frikada!! 3

Bé, seguint amb les coses rares que hi ha por ahí, avui us poso una altra frikada: Una pròtesi mamària feta de mitja! Encara que el càncer de mama és una cosa sèria, però fer una pròtesi mamària de mitja em sembla igualment friki, en té la tira! És una cosa rara, rara de veritat. Aquí teniu el patró i aquí teniu la història:

Six months after losing my right breast to cancer, I was invited to a party at the latest hot boite. Now, I usually avoid such places, preferring to spend my evenings at home, knitting hemp climbing gyms for my son's pet snake or felted fishbowl warmers for my daughter's Siamese fighting fish, but I needed a change of scene.

Finding the right outfit was a no-brainer. I have closet full of leather dresses and high heeled boots from my days as a Yarn Dom; "Get that sock finished NOW, you badly carded piece of roving or else!" Finding the right breast prosthesis, however, was a nightmare.

I went to every mastectomy boutique and medical supply store in the city. There were titties of every shape, size and skin color (from beige to dark brown) but none were what I wanted -- perky, cute and comfortable. They were too heavy, squishy or ugly.

With a day to go before the party I was still without a titty. I considered going without one but my husband nixed the idea. I was already unbalanced, (but in a good way), he reasoned, but that didn't mean I should look unbalanced.

Finally, in a state that can only be described as panicked desperation, I bought a "proper" mastectomy bra and a silicone titty that was touted as the "lightest and most natural looking" on the market. The fitter, a sensible no-nonsense lady, who had been fitting breast prostheses since before disco was hot, discouraged me from wearing any of my existing bras, "They'll squash your prosthesis, dear and there is nothing worse than a squashed prosthesis!"

When I got home, I put on my new titty and bra and promptly broke into tears. The titty reminded me of raw liver, while the bra resembled the suspension system of my 1995 Volvo.

To cheer myself up, I rummaged through my stash looking for something luxurious to knit up. Then it hit me that I could knit myself a new titty; in fact, I had so much yarn I could knit myself a different titty for every day of the week, month, year!

I finished my first knitted titty an hour before the party and wore it with one of my favorite lacy underwires. When a friend, who had been following the whole titty saga, saw me she remarked, "You really did a great job! Your left breast looks almost as good as the right one -- a bit lumpy but very realistic."

"You know," I replied, "It was my right breast that was removed."