Fat and Happy….Almost

So I was back to The Boob Whisperer about a month ago to finally get the little dog ear extra skin removed and it looks SO much better.   I am ecstatic.  Are they perfect?  No.  But I knew they never would be.  As I’ve said before, breast reconstruction is generally a salvage job, not a boob job, and they were always destined to be sisters, not twins.  After this latest surgery I feel like I am one step forward and three steps back in my range of motion, and now I think it’s starting to affect my shoulder and back on that side.  I need to start stretching and exercising ASAP before I am crippled.  Between this problem and the cancer medication most days I feel like a 90 year old.  I know that moving more will help alleviate this issue but it’s hard to get started when you feel like the Tin Man before Dorothy entered into his life.  I know, I know, excuses are like assholes, everybody’s got one.

I’m also really great at excusing my lackadaisical attitude towards losing weight. I did lose like 35-40 pounds in 2015 during treatment, but I still have about 50 to go.  I keep telling myself I’m going to do it but I never do.  The difference now is I’ve almost given myself permission to stay this size (16-18) because hey, look at all I’ve had to endure?  I deserve to eat what I want and be fat and happy.  And one thing is for sure, I’ve never in my life been happy overweight but now I can honestly say it doesn’t bother me much.  Just like so many other things in life that seemed like a huge deal before I was diagnosed with cancer, losing weight seems pretty unimportant in the grand scheme of things.  You see, I’ve really succeeded in simplifying and prioritizing my life and that includes fretting about my size and appearance.  But-being a healthy weight is important.  Being overweight is a risk factor for breast cancer and the smart thing for me to do is lose the weight and reduce my risk.  I’ve taken other positive steps, like quitting alcohol and transferring to a less stressful position at work, but it’s not enough.  I need to get to a healthy weight and maintain it.  I will never be the nutrition police like those proclaiming – No meat!  No soy!  No sugar!  No white flour!  Seriously though, fuck off.  Life is way too short.

Weight loss is not simple for anyone but for me it particularly comes with huge amounts of baggage. I’ve been every size from a zero to 24.  It started in high school when I used dieting to deal with my emotional issues and became anorexic.  It happened in my early 20’s when I ballooned up to a size 24.  It happened in my late twenties when I became anorexic again.  When I got pregnant at 36 and gained 53 pounds it was because “I’m eating for two you know.”  Yeah, two lumberjacks.  For every time there were pounds lost, there were an equal number or more of pounds gained.  I have so much loose skin from yo-yo dieting it is so not attractive.  And each time I lose the weight I say “this is the last time.”  At 51, it has yet to be “the last time.”  At least I haven’t gained any of the weight back in the last two and a half years since chemotherapy so I guess that’s progress.

The thing is, I am at a place in my life where being overweight isn’t ideal, but truly it doesn’t cast a shadow over my happiness like it once did. I am thankful to be alive and I don’t give two shits what anyone else thinks about my size.  It’s a wonderful feeling to finally love myself in all my extra pounds, scarred foobs glory so I’ve kind of been basking in this new self-acceptance.  But if I truly love myself, I will give my body the care and nutrition it needs, so I am going to really try this time.  I feel ready.  Wish me luck.

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