Because I love being a girl.
I’ve cried and stumbled through most of this journey. I’ve been sad and feeling low for the better part of the last year and a half. And while that sort of disposition is contrary to my natural effervescence, it is perfectly understandable. Dealing with cancer is hard. Its heavy and it takes a huge emotional toll on you – if you let it. (Which I did) But, I’m moving on past that. Its time.
I have decided that even though I am not perfectly pleased with my body as it is that’s no reason to dim my own shine. Most of us aren’t happy with our looks. We want longer hair or shorter hair. Straighter hair or curlier hair. A smaller nose or bigger boobs. Some of us want hips and others want to give away the hips they have. (shrug) It is… what it is. At some point you have to accept yourself, flaws and all… and just damn what you think other people will think of your shortcomings.
Before breast cancer, I liked feeling like a sexy girl. I didn’t go too far out of my conservative comfort zone to find that sexiness to be sure. But I did my own thing, in my own way. I learned to own my own space in the world.
And then I lost it. Probably somewhere in the hallways of George Washington University Hospital. (laughs) I’ve been dressing like a schlump for the longest time now. Wearing ill-fitting clothes because I didn’t want to shop for new things and my old things didn’t quite fit right anymore. But when you dress well, you feel better about yourself. And I NEED to feel good. (My cuteness cannot be confined to just my face…)
So, today I wore a sassy dress to work that shows a LOT of cleavage. And… well, my cleavage is crooked. And it’s a little misshapen. And its got a darkened area of skin (hyper-pigmentation from my radiation treatment) And its got a crazy scar going around my new breast.
AND… I TRULY DON’T GIVE A CARE!
(sigh) That felt good to release that into the air. I don’t care that someone sees my scars today. I don’t care that someone in my office may feel uncomfortable with my putting it all out there for them to see and acknowledge. I don’t really care about any of that. For me, that’s a huge leap forward. I’ve been terrified, scared to death, that showing my scars was going to be embarrassing for me and for whomever came into contact with me. I’ve been wearing anything and everything that covers my entire chest area because I didn’t think I should bare my imperfection to the world.
But you know what? I’m forcing myself to get over it. Life is just too short for me to continue to put these crazy restrictions on myself. Last summer I met the nicest guy. And the sweetest (yet strange) thing he said to me was that he wanted to lick my scar. He was talking about the tiny scar on my chest where my port was implanted. He had no idea that (at the time) I had a huge sideways scar on the left side of my body where my boobie was removed. He just saw a girl at a party and threw it out there. I think about that comment a lot.
Life is short. I’m tired of feeling afraid. I’m tired of not feeling comfortable in my own skin, in my own space. Breast cancer has taken a lot from me…I refuse to give up anything else to this disease.
Sorry. Today is MY day. And I feel pretty doggone good too.
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