My breast has gone... but I’ve never felt better in a swimsuit
She’s beaten cancer – now the Sky News star tells why she is proud to pose for a stunning range of post-mastectomy bathing costumes
IT WAS ‘ the most embarrassing thing’ I had ever done. Or rather, that was the verdict of my 18-year-old daughter Amelia after my first mastectomy swimsuit pictures went public in January last year. ‘The boys at school have the photos on their phones,’ she added, by way of explanation.
For my part, I was ever so slightly flattered – and I can’t deny it – although this wasn’t the point of the shoot.
It’s not every day a middle-aged woman becomes an object of desire, let alone one who has survived breast cancer.
Of course as their mum, I embarrass my children regularly – according to them – so, brace yourself kids, I’m doing it again.
The new swimsuits, premiered today exclusively in The Mail on Sunday, are designed by Melissa Odabash, who also created the first batch.
Her gorgeous designer costumes are worn by A-listers from Rihanna to Gwyneth Paltrow.
The difference with these is that they can be worn by women, like me, who have had their breasts removed or reconstructed.
They are not just pretty, but feats of engineering that are able to keep their shape and stay on despite discreetly housing prosthetic ‘breast forms’ that give a naturally feminine silhouette, but weigh as much as a grapefruit in some cases.
So why, at the age of 51, have I agreed to bare (almost) all?
Well, I hope these images exude confidence and will help to empower women with breast cancer.
Once your breast is gone, it’s gone for ever. Surgeons can do a skilled job of trying to copy what God gave you, but it won’t be the same.
However, you don’t have to hide or cover up after you’ve been through this traumatic journey. You will move on, you will have holidays and you will have good times.
Aside from my daughters’ blushes (secretly, I like to think they’re also proud), there was a roar of approval after the first collection from women who were living with a breast-cancer diagnosis or who had, like me, undergone bodyaltering surgery because of it.
This new collection, the proceeds of which will partly go to breastcancer charity Future Dreams, is even better. There are still the same gorgeous colours and designs but it’s now way more structured, and this is important post-surgery. The costumes are now made by Amoena, a world leader in medical mastectomy bras and swimsuits.
The collaboration is a fabulous success, and a long way from some of the frumpy and functional offerings currently on the market.
They are also very affordable for something so specialist – retailing from £79 for an all-in-one.
These specialist garments are a necessity for women, not an optional luxury. Some may not have had a fantastic reconstruction, maybe they now look asymmetrical, maybe they didn’t have reconstruction at all. These costumes are versatile enough to be worn by all women. As we did this photoshoot on a classic British summer’s day – a nippy 18 degrees and with a giant light helping me to glow instead of the actual sun – Dirk Muller the CEO of Amoena said: ‘We sell a lot of mastectomy swimwear to women who’ve never had a mastectomy – they’re just ladies who like the extra support.’
Well you definitely get that. You’re sucked in and pulled up in a secure way – just enough to make you look good on the beach. Normal, or better than normal hopefully.
Before I had breast cancer I was always the one with the worst beachwear. You know, the tops never matched the bottoms, and nothing fitted that well as I always bought without thought and in a rush. I just didn’t invest in this part of my wardrobe.
It was a very different story after my mastectomy. The urge to look good and show the world that I was not just OK but more than OK became very important. That I didn’t look freakish and maimed in any way was a factor.
‘See, just as good as new, nothing to see here’ was the message that I felt I needed to get across to my friends and family. I can’t even explain why – maybe it was part of the healing process.
I was diagnosed with breast cancer in December 2013. I had surgery, chemotherapy and the breast-cancer drug tamoxifen. It’s hard to get through. But you have to roll up your sleeves and get on with it. There’s no glamour
on a cancer ward, just sick, worried people.
Once it’s over – if you are lucky enough to get this far – the chance to move on and buy new clothes, go on holiday is all part of distancing yourself from the ‘drama’. It certainly was for me.
A Sky News viewer wrote me a truly uplifting email a few weeks ago. She said she’d seen me talk about my breast-cancer operation in an interview and it made her check herself. She found a lump that turned out to be very aggressive breast cancer, and if she’d left it much longer she wouldn’t be alive.
‘Thank you for saving my life’ was how she ended her letter.
So I’m happy to suck in my post-three-children tummy and slap on the fake tan over my cellulite (‘If you can’t tone it, tan it’ is the motto of my spray-tan lady!) and ‘model’ a few nicely designed pieces of beachwear.
It might mean a few more toecurling moments for my kids, but I refuse to be embarrassed. Far from it. I had a horrible disease, but I’m still here, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to look my best on the beach. Who says women who have had breast cancer can’t look sexy?
Future Dreams is raising funds for breast-cancer support, awareness and research with the aim of opening Future Dreams House, home to Breast Cancer Haven, a place where people affected by breast cancer can get free support. To find out more or to donate, visit futuredreams.org.uk and amoena.com.