welcome to the working week

  • I’m so exhausted. I woke up at five this morning because I had to be in bk court by 8:30 am in Cape Girardeau, which is like two hours away.  I was not amused.
  • Yesterday was an epic fail.  I was pretty much an exhausted, emotional mess all day. I was crying on and off all day. I started a big fight with my boyfriend.  It was bad.  I found out why today. I got my period for the first time in 18 months. I was not expecting that. I actually laughed. Estrogen…it’s a blessing and a curse.  I guess chemopause is over.
  • At least I know I’m not crazy.  Well not permanently anyway.
  • It’s too fucking hot outside. Pure misery.
  • I wanted to wear slacks today, because my legs are covered in bug bites from the 4th.  I have exactly two pairs, and I tried both on this morning.  Both of them were way too big. Oh. So I guess it’s time to go shopping. None of my court appropriate clothes fit properly anymore.
  • I’m in a funk.  I feel absolutely hideous. I don’t want to see myself in a mirror or in a pic. I think all of my clothes suck. Nothing fits right.  Nothing looks good. My hair fucking sucks. It’s still falling out, but not growing back. My eyelashes are doing their we fall out every three months bit.  Just fuck off, body. Seriously. Oh and fuck off breast cancer, chemo, tamoxifen, and methotrexate. Fuck all of that shit. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.
  • It’s okay though. I have some relaxing stuff planned for tonight. I’m going to go to bed early. I think tomorrow will be a better day.  In fact, I feel better just putting this out there. So here it is. ❤

a heavy issue

I’m going to discuss my secret shame on the blog.  I think it will help me be accountable and also work through the issues.

I weighed myself this morning at 136.9, which is my official start weight. I want to be 130.  I am almost 5’7" so I’m well within my healthy weight range.

I downloaded the My Fitness Pal app to my iPhone to help keep track of my calories, and all my old info is still in there. When I started using it a couple of years ago, I weighed 146.5 and my goal was 135.  It’s crazy to me that I’m now essentially 135, and it isn’t good enough, because I’ve been 130 for the last year or so.  What I really want is to be 125, but that does not seem to be maintainable for me.  I did see that weight during chemo though.  (All of my friends told me it was a bad look, btw. All I heard from them, like a broken record: you’re too skinny. Way too skinny.“ In my (broken) mind, there isn’t such a thing.)

When I look in the mirror, I see someone who needs to lose about 20 pounds.  I know that’s crazy.  I really do, but my body image is completely distorted.  It has been since about junior year in high school. I weighed 114 pounds and refused to eat at all during the day.  I would eat one giant meal at night (totally binge eating), and that was it.  I was obsessed with my weight.  I was eventually (in college) diagnosed with BDD.  I used to take meds for it, but those meds interfere with Tamoxifen, and so I cannot take them anymore.

A perfect example of how fucking stupid it is: My best friend is 3 pounds heavier than me, and 5 inches shorter.  She thinks she needs to lose weight, but I think she looks great.

I plan to work harder on accepting and loving myself as I am, but I won’t lie and say I don’t intend to keep working to get the body I want.  Part of me knows that even if I got to this ideal, I would still be unhappy.  I’m always wanting more.  I’m never satisfied with myself.  It’s why I’m always so fucking mentally exhausted.  I want to do more and be better all the time.

In the meantime, I comfort myself with the knowledge that in January my plastic surgeon is going to suck out a bunch of my fat and put it in my boobs to soften the edges of my implants.  Taking fat out of my abdomen and thighs and putting it in my boobs…isn’t that every girl’s dream?