Leave me breastless

If you think of yourself as an Amazon, then look at me. Instead of just hacking off my right breast, I had the two off at the same time. I looked at my body after the operation a few months ago and shed a few tears for the pair of small but perfectly formed glands that had been part of me. Not even a nipple in sight. But then, with my ferociously black sense of humour, I decided that I had created a totally new definition for the term "flat-chested". I had never been able to understand why women who get breast cancer just have the one diseased breast off. Would they not feel lopsided? Would they not just be plain terrified of the insidious beast coming back to relocate and recharge in the "good" breast? Would they not feel weighed down and cumbersome with the prosthesis that they would have to wear to even them up; to get the balance right? Would they not live in mortal fear of the same artificial breast falling down if the bra strap snapped? Could they ever play Wimbledon again? Or even attempt the tango?

Not for me, I decided. Not my cup of tea. Or not even a mugful of milk. I was referred to John Reynolds, a surgeon in St James's Hospital, who nodded assuredly at me when I asked if I could have a bilateral mastectomy on the same day. No problem, he said. It would probably tack about 20 minutes on to However, the head of the Breastcare Unit in St James's, Nurse Pauline Murphy and her colleagues - who were a tower of strength at the time - insisted on my looking at all the lookalike breasts on offer. I admit they were not the sort of medieval corseting that I had expected. They are light and could make you look as lithe as ever, but my mind was made up. Equally, I had no intention of even considering implants or the like. I have heard too many gruesome stories.

One thing that made a slashing difference in the way I considered the matter was that I had not worn a bra for over 20 years, except when I was pregnant and for some time after until the breasts returned to their normal size. Also, I did not breast-feed my little dote.

I never liked bras. I have a broad back and with small breasts, and I could never get one to cover both with comfort. The long, loose clothes of the 1970s finally liberated me and allowed me to dispense with fittings and fixtures that flattened you in one place and pushed you out and up in another. There is nothing so sensuous as feeling your body move with you - not as male manufacturers and male-ist society dictated. It was the one thing about nuns that always fascinated me - when they wore the full regalia and had not become the grey creatures of today. Where were their breasts? You saw just a flattened shape. Were they corseted from head to toe? Were their female features bound up tightly like Chinese women's feet?

I have not bought one bit of new clothing that I would not have bought anyway. I wear loose dresses, loose shirts and dreamy little camisoles. Loose and light layers of things. Well, what would you expect? I am just an old-fashioned, loose woman.