“Pressure” by Raki Kopernik

June 12, 2015

For the entire month of June RESTLESS is celebrating Pride by featuring work exclusively by LGBTQ writers. Check out the “Pride2015” tag for more.

It was an outpatient surgery, local anesthesia. When she arrived at the office, the nurse let her hold the implants. They were square and wrapped in white canvas cloth, but squishy underneath.  She was surprised by their shape and look, and wondered if it was a good idea that she hold them with her bare hands, seeing as they were about to be implanted inside of her body. She kept these thoughts to herself.

The nurse had her lie on her back on an operating table and injected the anesthetic into the side of her breast. A middle aged, slightly gray, TV-style doctor came in. She looked at him and he smiled. She told him she was nervous about the pain. He said, “You’ll just feel a bit of pressure,” which was, in fact, how she felt already. “It’s really no big deal,” the doctor said. He made a quick cut across the top of her left breast and pulled the flesh up to make space for the implant. She took a breath, uneasy. When he finished the left side he sewed the top of her breast with one quick motion, as if drawing a line with a pen, then did the same on the other side. The whole thing took three minutes.

When it was over, she walked around the doctor’s office. Her breasts felt heavy and tender. She felt her nipples through her shirt. They were perkier and situated much higher on each breast. “Now you don’t have to wear a bra,” the doctor told her. She remembered her sister-in-law letting her feel her implanted breasts in the back of the car on the way to the theater. “I never wear a bra,” the sister-in-law said. She envied that part. But she wondered what people would say when they saw her the next day with her new, giant tits. She hadn’t told anyone she was going to do this. In fact, she couldn’t remember when or why she had made this decision in the first place. Perhaps society had gotten the best of her.

She asked the doctor if he could take them out. She worried her original breasts would be stretched out, but thought that would be better than fake canvas ones. He told her she’d have to wait a month for the insertion points to heal before he could do anything. She’d have to walk around braless and buoyant for a month. She tried to think of something positive about the whole situation but the worry that people would think she was crazy overpowered any thoughts of comfort or fun. She touched her new rack again. She gave a very gentle squeeze, fearing they would pop. And the weight of them, though spry, pulled against her body.


Raki KopernikRaki Kopernik is the author of the three-part zine, Shut Up and Dance, unavailable anywhere but the bathrooms of random people, mainly on the West Coast. Her stories have been published in Monkey Puzzle, Wilde Magazine, Not Enough Night, and on her flash fiction, dream-inspired blog, Night Stories. She holds an MFA in creative writing from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University and currently lives in Minneapolis. You can find more of her work here: https://rakikopernik.wordpress.com.

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