I Threw A Party For My Boobs

Today is surgery day.

And if I’m being honest, I’ve felt every emotion you can think of — all in the last ten minutes.

Grateful. Terrified. Relieved. Angry. Hopeful. Numb.

It's like every part of me is screaming “Thank God we caught this early” and “What if I don’t feel like me anymore?” at the same time.

Early Detection Saved My Life — But Not My Breasts

When I found the lump, it was small.

A pebble, really.

Something I could’ve ignored. Something that multiple doctors almost brushed off.

But I didn’t ignore it.

I trusted my gut.

I advocated for myself.

And because of that, I’m standing here today — preparing for surgery, yes, but with a fighting chance and a plan.

So before anything else, let me say this:

Early detection is everything.

It doesn’t make it easier. But it makes it possible.

Possible to fight. Possible to survive. Possible to keep moving forward.

Let’s Talk About the Breasts in the Room

Choosing a double mastectomy is the most difficult decision I’ve ever made.

Not because I didn’t want to do it — but because it meant confronting something I didn’t want to say out loud:

That my identity was wrapped up in my body in ways I didn’t even realize.

I was scared to tell people.

Scared they wouldn’t understand.

Scared I’d be seen differently.

Scared I’d lose parts of myself I couldn’t get back.

But what I found instead?

Support.

Love.

Understanding.

And this beautiful truth:

People love me for more than my body.

Turns out, the people who matter most don’t care about the packaging — they care that the woman inside survives.

So I Threw a Party... For My Boobs

Yep. I did it.

Before surgery, I invited family and friends to come together.

No tears.

No pity.

Just love.

Just joy.

Just vibes.

A farewell party for the girls.

We laughed, played games , toasted to survival.

There was food. There was drank. There was music. There was space for everything — fear, joy, grief, celebration.

Because for all the ways my body is changing, I’m still me.

Still Khira.

Still here.

And I needed to mark that moment with the people who’ve held me through every step.

This Isn’t About Saving My Boobs — It’s About Saving Me

At the end of the day, it’s not about breasts.

It’s about life.

It’s about reclaiming my body on my terms.

It’s about choosing myself — scars, pain, power, and all.

So today, I’m saying goodbye to what was…And making room for what’s next.

🖤Still soft. Still strong. Still Khira.

—Khira