English Original
My teammates on the United States Disabled Ski Team used to tease me about the size of my chest, joking that my greatest handicap wasn't my missing leg but my missing cleavage. Little did they know how true that would become. This past year, I found out that for the second time in my life I had cancer, this time in both breasts. I had bilateral mastectomies.
When I heard I'd need the surgery, I didn't think it would be a big deal. I even told my friends playfully, "I'll keep you abreast of the situation." After all, I had lost my leg to my first go-round with cancer at age 12, then gone on to become a world-champion ski racer. All of us on the Disabled Ski Team were missing one set of body parts or another. I saw that a man in a wheelchair can be utterly sexy. That a woman who has no hands can appear not to be missing anything. That wholeness has nothing to do with missing parts and everything to do with spirit. Yet although I knew this, I was surprised to discover how difficult it was to adjust to my new scars.
When they brought me back to consciousness after the surgery, I started to sob and hyperventilate. Suddenly I found that I didn't want to face the loss of more of my body. I didn't want chemotherapy again. I didn't want to be brave and tough and put on a perpetual smiling face. I didn't ever want to wake up again. My breathing grew so shaky that the anesthesiologist gave me oxygen and then, thankfully, put me back to sleep.
When I was doing hill sprints to prepare for my ski racing - my heart and lungs and leg muscles all on fire - I'd often be hit by the sensation that there were no resources left inside me with which to keep going. Then I'd think about the races ahead - my dream of pushing my potential as far as it could go, the satisfaction of breaking through my own barriers - and that would get me through the sprints. The same tenacity that served me so well in ski racing helped me survive my second bout with cancer.
After the mastectomies, I knew that one way to get myself going would be to start exercising again, so I headed for the local pool. In the communal shower, I found myself noticing other women's breasts for the first time in my life. Size-D breasts and size-A breasts, sagging breasts and perky breasts. Suddenly and for the first time, after all these years of missing a leg, I felt acutely self-conscious. I couldn't bring myself to undress.
I decided it was time to confront myself. That night at home, I took off all my clothes and had a long look at the woman in the mirror. She was androgynous. Take my face - without makeup, it was a cute young boy's face. My shoulder muscles, arms and hands were powerful and muscular from the crutches. I had no breasts; instead, there were two prominent scars on my chest. I had a sexy flat stomach, a bubble butt and a well-developed thigh from years of ski racing. My right leg ended in another long scar just above the knee.
I discovered that I liked my androgynous body. It fit my personality - my aggressive male side that loves getting dressed in a helmet, arm guards and shin protectors to do battle with the slalom gates, and my gentle female side that longs to have children one day and wants to dress up in a beautiful silk dress, go out to dinner with a lover and then lie back and be slowly undressed by him.
I found that the scars on my chest and my leg were a big deal. They were my marks of life. All of us are scarred by life; it's just that some of those scars show more clearly than others. Our scars do matter. They tell us that we have lived, that we haven't hidden from life. When we see our scars plainly, we can find in them, as I did that day, our own unique beauty.
The next time I went to the pool I showered naked.
中文翻译
我在美国残疾人滑雪队的队友们过去常常取笑我的胸部大小，开玩笑说我最大的不利条件不是我失去的那条腿，而是我缺失的乳沟。他们不知道这玩笑竟会一语成谶。去年，我发现我人生中第二次患上了癌症，这次是双乳。我接受了双侧乳房切除术。
当我听说需要手术时，我并不认为这是什么大事。我甚至开玩笑地告诉朋友们：“我会让你们及时了解情况。”毕竟，我12岁时因第一次患癌失去了一条腿，后来却成为了一名世界冠军滑雪运动员。我们残疾人滑雪队的成员都缺失了身体的某些部分。我见过坐轮椅的男人可以极其性感。没有双手的女人看起来也可以什么都不缺。完整性与缺失的肢体无关，而与精神息息相关。然而，尽管我明白这个道理，我还是惊讶地发现，适应我的新伤疤是如此困难。
手术后，当他们让我恢复意识时，我开始抽泣并强力呼吸。突然间，我发现我不想面对身体更多的缺失。我不想再接受化疗。我不想再表现得勇敢、坚强，永远挂着微笑。我再也不想醒来了。我的呼吸变得非常不稳定，麻醉医师给我吸了氧，然后，谢天谢地，又让我睡着了。
当我为滑雪比赛进行山坡冲刺训练时——我的心、肺和腿部肌肉都像在燃烧——我常常会感到体内已无任何资源可以支撑我继续前进。然后，我会想到即将到来的比赛——将我的潜力发挥到极致的梦想，突破自身障碍的满足感——这能让我完成冲刺。正是这种在滑雪比赛中对我大有裨益的坚韧，帮助我战胜了第二次癌症的发作。
乳房切除术后，我知道让自己重新振作的一个方法就是开始锻炼，于是我去了当地的游泳池。在公共淋浴间，我发现自己有生以来第一次注意到其他女性的乳房。D罩杯的乳房和A罩杯的乳房，下垂的乳房和挺拔的乳房。这么多年来失去一条腿后，我第一次突然感到极度地不自在。我无法让自己脱掉衣服。
我决定是时候面对自己了。那天晚上在家里，我脱掉所有衣服，久久地凝视着镜中的女人。她是雌雄同体的。以我的脸为例——不施粉黛，那是一张可爱的小男孩的脸。我的肩膀、手臂和手因为长期使用拐杖而强壮有力。我没有乳房；取而代之的是胸前两道显眼的伤疤。我有一个性感的平坦腹部，一个圆润的臀部，以及多年滑雪比赛练就的发达大腿。我的右腿在膝盖上方以另一道长长的伤疤告终。
我发现我喜欢自己雌雄同体的身体。它契合我的个性——我富有攻击性的男性一面，喜欢戴上头盔、护臂和护胫，与回转门一决高下；以及我温柔的女性一面，渴望有一天能有孩子，想穿上美丽的丝绸连衣裙，与爱人共进晚餐，然后躺下，让他慢慢为我宽衣。
我发现我胸部和腿上的伤疤意义重大。它们是我生命的印记。我们所有人都被生活留下了伤疤；只是有些伤疤比其他的更明显。我们的伤疤确实重要。它们告诉我们，我们活过，我们没有躲避生活。当我们清晰地看到自己的伤疤时，我们就能在其中找到，就像我那天所做的那样，我们自己独特的美。
下一次去游泳池时，我裸身淋浴了。