Twelve years on from my diagnosis, I often find myself looking back – not with sadness, but with a deep sense of gratitude. Time softens the edges of hard memories, and what remains are the moments that shaped who we became through it all.
Back then, my boys were so young. They didn’t understand the words “breast cancer” (well maybe my older boy did for all those who know his wise soul), but they understood that Mum wasn’t well. Their innocence became my strength. Every smile, every ordinary moment – getting ready for kindy, reading stories, hearing them laugh – reminded me what I was fighting for.
They needed me to be present, so that’s what I focused on: being there. Not overthinking what might happen (a favourite pastime of mine), but showing up however I could each day.
I never shielded them completely from what was happening. They saw the tubes, the scars, the radiation burns, the days I couldn’t lift them properly. It wasn’t easy, but I wanted them to see that life isn’t about pretending everything’s perfect – it’s about facing the hard things with honesty and courage. Some people believe protecting children means hiding pain; I’ve always believed it means helping them understand that pain is a part of living.
When I look back, I don’t remember every appointment or the countless nights of uncertainty. What I remember is the way my boys handled it all with such quiet strength and compassion. On the day of my first surgery, my husband took them to kindy after dropping me at the hospital. Later, a teacher told me that my five-year-old had gathered his friends in a circle and said, “My mum’s having an operation today. She’s only going to have one boob now, but she’s going to be okay.”
Even now, that memory brings tears to my eyes.
Choosing not to reconstruct wasn’t a hard decision for me. I knew what felt right, and I was lucky to be surrounded by people who respected that. Years later, my younger son said to me, “Mum, don’t worry about putting the boobs in – I like you just as you are. It makes you unique.”
And he’s right.
Those moments taught me more about resilience than anything else ever could. From adversity came a family that values honesty, gratitude, and love without conditions. Without even realising or being told this, my boys learned early that life can change in an instant – but also that we have a choice in how we respond.
I’ve spent most of the past decade being their biggest supporter – at training sessions, trials, games, nipper carnivals, nervously on the sidelines looking at the grass or sand – always cheering them on, sometimes to a fault. What they probably don’t realise is how much they’ve supported me in return. Their laughter, their growth, their unconditional love – they were my lifeline.
They’ve grown into young men who are warm, witty and wonderfully unruffled by life’s ups and downs. They know life can throw you curveballs, but they also know how to take it in their stride and keep moving forward. And that’s what I’m most proud of.
Twelve years later, I still wear my scars with pride. They remind me not of what I lost, but of what I gained in perspective, strength, and a deeper connection with the people who matter most.
And if my story – our story – gives them even a small blueprint for facing life’s challenges with resilience and optimism, then I think I’ve done my job as their mum.
So maybe being a little breastless isn’t such a bad thing after all. It’s just another reminder that you don’t have to be flawless to be whole – you just have to be you.
I am breastless and beautiful.
Love,
Gen
Leave Me Breastless: Annual Style Edit
Dressing the Breastless Body
Every year, I get a little better at this: at life, at balance, and at dressing the body I’ve got. There’s a freedom in not trying to be who you were, and a quiet confidence in owning who you are now. My body has changed, sure, but so has my perspective. Honestly, that’s been the best glow-up of all.
This year has brought some serious wardrobe wins. The longer I live in this body, the more I understand what flatters, what feels right, and what I can happily leave behind. Once you stop dressing for the body you used to have and start dressing for the one you’ve got, getting ready becomes easier — and way more fun.
Here are my standout brands and pieces that made me feel good, look good, and reminded me that having no boobs doesn’t mean having no style.
Kivari
Playsuits and short dresses are my signature move, and Kivari does them best. Easy, flattering, and structured without clinging. My latest Kivari playsuit is probably my favourite purchase of the year — comfy, cute, and yes, I can even rock a V-neck again, as long as it doesn’t plunge into no-man’s-land.
Une Piece
Swim and resort wear for the breastless can be tricky, but Une Piece nails it. Elegant, practical, with enough coverage and good lines. Perfect for summer days when you just want to feel like yourself.
Mister Zimi
Zimi never lets me down. Their Spanish dress from last year was bold, bright, and breezy, with prints and ruffles doing all the work.
Witchery
The denim V-neck set was my summer uniform. Structured enough to feel polished, relaxed enough to feel effortless, and just the right neckline to add a little shape without shouting for attention. They’ve brought it back this season, and I get why.
Nine Lives Bazaar
Bright, boho prints that make you happy. Playsuits and V-necks that work perfectly with my prosthesis. Light, easy, and never try-hard — just enough femininity without making me self-conscious.
Aje
This shirt dress is clever. The jacket-style front completely distracts from the chest, and it’s one of those “throw it on and instantly feel put together” outfits.
Mix and Match Magic
A Zimi dress paired with a Forever New jacket? Instant win. The jacket adds structure and nobody would guess there’s nothing underneath. Good layering can solve almost anything.
Bow-Front and Pussy-Bow Tops
Total workday winners. Neck detailing draws the eye upward, adds softness, and keeps it polished, feminine, and just a little cheeky.
Camilla
My still-unworn Camilla off-shoulder short dress in Petal Promise Land is the pièce de résistance. Stunning fabric, pattern, and colour. Sits beautifully across the chest with or without a prosthesis, and the off-shoulder cut feels secure and flattering. I’ve got the perfect event coming up to debut it, and I can’t wait. It’s the kind of piece that makes you remember how good it feels to dress up and just own it.
Style Takeaways
Nothing too clingy, bold patterns are your friends, and a V-neck that isn’t too deep can work magic. Dressing without boobs is freeing — stop trying to hide what’s not there, and start showing off everything else that is.
Every year, my wardrobe feels more like me: comfortable, confident, and unapologetically breastless. It’s not about hiding, fixing, or faking. It’s about wearing clothes that make me feel good in the body and life I’ve got now. If I can make that look easy, and maybe even a little fabulous, I’m calling it a win.
Best of luck with your breastless shopping ladies and feel free to reach out if there’s anyway I can help you feel breastless and beautiful.
Love, Gen x
Leave Me Breastless 