I was, I came to realize, someone who loved to flirt with a swish of her hip or the suggestive hint of lingerie—and who relished the resulting look of desire in her girlfriend's eyes. After my double mastectomy, my chest wasn't just flat, it was scooped out.Once-favorite clothes hung awkwardly on my new frame.In an op-ed for The New York Times in May of 2013, BRCA1-carrier Angelina Jolie wrote about her choice to have a preventative double mastectomy herself, to guard against the 65 percent breast cancer risk that the BRCA1 gene indicates (though new research indicates the above statistic, at the time of her decision making, and mine, the risk was said to be 87 percent).

Jolie has deservedly received much praise for bravely sharing her story, but, through no fault of hers, much of the response from the media and the general population has been overly simplistic — people are doubting Jolie's sanity, asking if she is being alarmist in taking these measures, and calling her choice fearful.

It's a positive thing that such a high profile person is raising awareness of this health issue and facilitating a discussion on a larger scale.

But this topic is not a fleeting celebrity story, and the choice to have parts of one's body removed can't be taken lightly or treated flippantly — it's a choice that should be thoroughly digested by anyone who needs to consider this, and one that must to be treated with respect by the general public.

I want to make sure that with this raised awareness comes knowledge and honest conversation.

But on that glorious day, no one cared, especially not me—as at home in my body as I'd ever been.

Want more stories like this delivered to your inbox? The struggle with how to dress this new torso of mine came later. And yet, growing up Catholic in Kentucky, I'd been taught that emotions were to be stuffed and bodies were to be covered.While some seventh-grade girls got to celebrate their budding breasts with triumphant fittings at fancy department stores, my mother handed me two white cotton triangles bound by a tangle of elastic, and that was that.People may question the decision, but the alternative, which is getting multiple mammograms and MRIs each year for the rest of your life, sucks too.It means spending time in cancer centers, and basically being treated as a cancer patient yourself.I am an anxiety-prone and action-oriented person, and when my doctors and genetic counselors relayed to me that having a double mastectomy was their ultimate recommendation, and the way to decrease my risk most dramatically, I knew it was the right decision for me.