A Puffy Heavier
Me
Weight gain sucks. As if cancer didn’t have enough downers, it
has to throw weight gain and puffiness to my growing list of “more things to
hate about cancer.” I thought at least I
would lose some weight during this ordeal but no, no, no. Just another one of life’s current
letdowns. They just seem to keep
coming. I know that I shouldn’t be
worried about this. I know I should be
happy just to be alive. Blah blah
blah. Yeah, I agree it does seem really
vain to be complaining about my weight but really, it’s so not fair. If I have to be bald, pale, weak, scarred, etc.,
I would at least prefer to be skinny. My
clothes still fit but are much more snug (spell
check/grammar check suggested that I replace “more snug” for “snugger” but that
words sounds super weird to me so I apologize if “more snug” is somehow
grammatically inferior to “snugger”).
Thanks to all the steroids in my body, months of inactivity, and a weird
appetite I put on some weight. Now that the
weather has been nice and I have more energy I am hoping to get rid of those
extra pounds. I’m tired of looking in
the mirror and seeing a puffy version of myself looking back. I miss my cheekbones. In this weight and beauty obsessed world we
live in I am not faring very well. I
appreciate all that the steroids do but I really wish it could be done without
making me puff up. My puffy reflection looks
back at me very disappointed. I want to
tell her “it’s not my fault, don’t blame this on me.” I have two weeks left of chemo (yay, it makes
me giddy to think about and so ready to celebrate) and my hope is that completing
chemo will mean the end of steroids! I
may have a small intimate party to specifically celebrate the puffiness
subsiding. Just me, my reflection, and
some good lighting. She deserves it.
Looking
on the Bright Side…cancer was a good excuse to eat lots of ice cream and muddy
buddies, it’s not my fault that’s what would sooth my very confused stomach.
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