First, you’ll need a catchy invite to send out. My favorites live on Paperless Post. I found the cutest template below and made it my own.

Second, you’ll need a cake. A boob cake, at that. If anyone happens to be in Little Rock, Arkansas, Community Bakery is the one stop sweet shop for all of your sugary needs. I made the mistake of going into Blue Cake prior to Community Bakery and asking about creating this masterpiece below. They said that they were a “family-run business,” that children could be around, and that they didn’t create nudity cakes…all the while looking at me as if I asked them to create porn. Come on, y’all. Let’s be a little more progressive next time someone comes in asking about a double mastectomy cake. Shout out to Community for being part of a bigger cause than themselves.

For more sugary sweets, you can always bake your own boobie cupcakes! One of my best friends made these for the party and they were PERFECT. You can even go the extra mile and place them in the shape of a pink ribbon, the international symbol of breast cancer awareness. More food ideas from my Pinterest page include white chocolate (with light pink food coloring) covered strawberries, white chocolate covered pretzels, heart shaped cookies turned upside down (to form boobs), pink marshmallow rice krispies, and mammo-graham sandwiches (cutest idea EVER).



The drink station comes next with “Pick You Cup Size” cups with hand-drawn bra sizes that people can choose from. My speciality cocktails were Seabreezes. NOM. Find the recipe below.
This serves 8-10 people. Double the recipe for more!
-16 oz of vodka
-30 oz of Cranberry juice
-12 oz grapefruit juice
-Lime wedges
-Mint leaves
Party decor should follow with pink everything: Pink solo cups, pink straws, pink plates, pink napkins, etc. These can all be found at your local Party City store or the old reliable Amazon.
Pink
Everything
If you’re into games, a breasty piñata is always a good idea, boob pong with these balls, or even Pin the Boobs on the Babe. If you’re wondering where to purchase this, full disclosure: my friend went to an “adult” store, so there’s that.


If you’re feeling in a very DIY mood, you can create your own Bra Pong: get a large board, pin bras to it, stand back, and try to throw a ping pong ball into a cup! Check out my Pinterest board for more ideas like this! Party favors can include my favorite pink OPI nail polish, pink M&Ms, pink starbursts, and if you’re feeling boozy, a bottle of my favorite Whispering Angel rosé. Options are endless! Lastly, a creative donation table for breast cancer research is also an option. I’ve seen some cute ideas on Pinterest such as a pink boot with white writing “Give Breast Cancer the Boot!”
My boobs are gone. I think that comes as a shock to everyone but me. Don’t get me wrong, I was stunned the first time I saw my bare chest during a FaceTime call the day after surgery. It looked like I was in a vicious bear fight where I definitely lost. Maybe even died. My boobs aren’t even really boobs right now but more so lumpy, scary renditions of their former selves. My nipples look like they’ve been placed in either a space bag where all air has been sucked out or in a dehydrator. I really don’t know how else to describe it. I suppose I’ve also described my upper half as corpse looking, but I also believe that explanation does a disservice to my surgeons who are total rock stars through and through, so I prefer not to use that comparison as often.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that I no longer have a body part that has grown with me since birth. Think about that. My boobs have literally grown with me and have seen me at my good, my bad and my ugly. We’ve quite literally had our ups and our downs as we traveled through junior high puberty, high school inferiority, college OH MY GOD WHERE DID THOSE COME FROM HELLO FRESHMEN FIFTEEN, and on to adult-life settlement. Hell, maybe it’s a good thing they’re gone! Time to start over with a clean (read: flat and scar-filled) slate. To all my 2nd base boys, it was a pleasure.
I’ve only cried a couple of times: once before surgery and once after surgery. A couple of nights before April 11th, I became sentimental. The little guys that took up residency under my nose for 29 years were leaving. I was breaking up with my breasties, and I was sad. But hey, I was never fully invested in them to be honest. Those little suckers could barely fill out my Victoria Secret 34B padded bra. I was never a boob girl. I’ve got an ass that commanded control way back when my mom had to buy me elastic waistband jeans as a kid. My B(maybe even sometimes A)-cup never stood a chance.
Post-surgery, I cried, and it hurt so badly I had to stop immediately. So much outpouring of emotion comes from your upper body, something I didn’t really think about until I couldn’t actually outpour any. Your chest heaves over and forward, almost collapsing on itself and WHOA. That doesn’t do a mastectomy body good. Looking back, it was actually a pretty comical realization. I started tearing up since I was feeling sorry for myself, something I’m sure every woman who has walked this path has experienced. That pity party ended soon after pain trumped sadness. Once the pain subsided, I was glad about the short circuit. Crying is a workout.
Now a days, my definition of exercise consists of differentiating muscles groups between upper and mid-body. To sit up, I have to mentally prepare my abs to work while telling my pectoral muscles to chill the F out, or else. I think everyone tends to flex both of those groups when getting out of bed. Well no sir, not today, not for me. If my magical mind control fails, it feels like my upper half detaches from my body and BLAH that just gives me chills thinking abou tit. Ha. Tit. I’m not even going to correct that typo. It’s just too timely.
The above photo shows a photo from The Last Workout. Ah. I miss them like I miss hiking in Patagonia, sweating my ass off in the humidity of Southeast Asia and even freezing balls in Canada during ungodly hours of the night while shooting the Northern Lights. Moving, fast-faced, go-go-go. I like that stuff. My Twitter bio used to read “Everything all the time.” I felt that it described me pretty well. I replaced it a couple of days ago with “BRCA Previvor.” I feel like that fits me better right now. A year ago, everything was different. I was rock climbing up the side of a mountain to sleep in a capsule that overlooked the Sacred Valley in Peru with a man I thought I was going to marry. If you would’ve told me then that I’d be having a prophylactic double mastectomy a year later, I would’ve laughed in your face. It’s funny to see how much can change in a few hundred days.
I think back to March of 2014 when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. I got the call one night when I was living abroad in Argentina. It was my dad on the phone who said it first. “Your mom has breast cancer,” was what I heard and immediate fear and tears were what I felt. You never want to hear “mom” and “cancer” in the same sentence. Just three weeks later, she had her double mastectomy on March 31st, 2014. She has always shown me how to go through life with grace, making sure it was always chock full of fun and laughter. It’s no surprise, then, that she’d be my role model as I go through this journey almost three years to the day after her, hopefully exuding her same grace and positivity. She’s been my rock since Day 1, and now, many of my readers have followed in that role. I’m blown away at how open women are today when sharing their stories with me on Instagram, through email, in DMs and other platforms. It drew me to tears a few days ago as I scrolled and scrolled through the most positive, inspiring comments. After watching horrifying news clip after horrifying news clip in today’s world, this entire experience has restored my faith in how beautiful humanity really is. Thank you for loving me the way you do. Girl power to all.








































Small plates are on offer in abundant variety, leaving travelers satisfied without being stuffed with options such as bagels, muffins, fruits, eggs, fresh salads, flavorful meatballs, and loads more. Restaurant-style dining is available in the lounge as well!
Awaiting my arrival 11A in was my United Polaris bear, Saks Fifth Avenue bedding, slippers and a travel
I’ve never been graced with such high quality food onboard a plane than when I flew with United Polaris. I chose the wine flight (hand-picked by Sommelier Doug Frost) with spinach salad, chicken soup and apple pie, but let me lay out this delectable menu for your salivating pleasure:

2. Face paint
3. Nightly spritzer
4. Foreign finds
6. Just breathe
7. Silky Smooth
8. Pump it up
9. Skin, Hair, Nail 3some




13. On the road, again