I Didn’t Think Katrina

I didn’t think Katrina

 As published on Ink In Thirds.


I found myself lopsided on Longwood Avenue today –

one breast sinking

down farther than the other.  Just like

New Orleans – in need of

a raise in elevation.  I didn’t think

Cancer.  Like I didn’t think

hurricane.  Not

understanding why any fur-trading Frenchman

ever built

a city below sea level.


I didn’t think.


As beads of gel pooled

in the wrinkles of my nipple.  “This may feel

a little cool.  Just relax,” a stranger said, her hand

caressing my left


fatty tissue.  Cut it off!  Most

neighborhoods downstream of Lake

Ponchartrain and Borguen lose elevation at nearly

half an inch per year.


It isn’t natural.  It isn’t


Supported by underwire. You start to feel the difference.

The metal digging into

your engorged skin.  The cleavage pouring out

of the undersized cup.  And you start to wonder


was the left side growing or the right

getting smaller.  Smaller than New Orleans before

Hurricane Katrina, smaller than

the NOLA that a brave few chose

to rebuild.  As home.


“We have options.”  To recreate

the structures that we know as self.  Take from

the thigh or choose plastic.  While another neighborhood, the Upper

9th Ward is losing

just over one inch per year.


As a little girl, I always wanted

to fill a B cup in slender frame.  From my

A dress.  I always wanted

to build a city –


under echoes of a plastic ultrasound wand.  I choose

the blue

Mardis Gras beads and the A

cup – familiar – silicone form.


© 2017 Mirissa D. Price: A Dental Student, A Writer, A Journey to Share.