Transformation: Bathing Suits, Breast Cancer and Sumo Wrestling

Three words can strike fear into this woman’s heart during spring: bathing suit season.  This has always been true for me.  I have never had a great body image.  Throughout my life, I have strategically dressed to camouflage my thick arms, my very hippy hips, my lumpy thighs.  I have gained weight, lost weight, gained it back, lost it again, gained . . . .  I have been on every diet imaginable – Cleveland Clinic, Grapefruit, Scarsdale, Cabbage Soup, Adkins, Non-Adkins Low-Carb, Mediterranean, Vegan.  I have done so many trendy exercises – Jane Fonda workouts, step aerobics, pilates, yoga, spin classes, personal training, and good ole’ walking and biking.  I know that losing weight is all about eating less and moving more -- not really a hard equation to understand.  To put it into practice is another story.  I’m an emotional eater and a stress eater and the last few years of my life have been pretty stressful, so my weight has gone up and down (although mostly up).  

What’s weird is that no matter what shape I’ve been in, it’s never good enough for me.  If I am thin, I always think I should be thinner.  If I’m fat, I can’t believe I thought I was fat before.  And then there are my arms. The arm gene passed down through the women in my family is meant for sumo wrestlers.  And garment makers don’t seem to understand these arms.  There have been times, when trying on clothes in a dressing room, that I’ve gotten stuck IN THE ARMS and can’t get out.  Even when I’ve been thin, I have taken scissors to seams to let out the ARMS of a dress and not anything else.  Tank tops – no way, unless it’s under another shirt.  Sundresses – only with a sweater on top.  As a teacher, one of the reasons, but not the only, that I loved getting air conditioning finally was that I didn’t have to wear short sleeves at work.  I can wear long sleeves every day and feel safe.  So, with this vision of myself, the very idea of selecting a bathing suit is a horror.  (Brownies anyone?)

However, three years ago, my life changed when my very first mammogram showed that I had breast cancer.  It was a total surprise and I went through the gauntlet of surgeries, chemo and radiation.  As scary as cancer can be, it provides some positives as well.  You gain a different perspective on your life.  I really did become more thankful for what other people did for me, became kinder and more aware of others’ needs and realized that as bad as life could be, there really are things that could be worse. 

One of the other things that happens when you have breast cancer is you get a bit less modest.  You get used to all sorts of people looking, prodding and examining you in various states of undress, including  . . . your arms. 

So has this helped me with my body image?  Maybe so.  Ever since I was diagnosed, I stopped worrying about my weight, thinking there were too many other things to think about.  But then, this spring, something clicked in my brain.  I decided that once again, I was going to try to get in shape – but it was more than just losing weight – it was about being healthy and being strong.   Since spring, I have lost a considerable amount of weight, but it was not just a physical change, it was a mental change.  I was starting to shed my previous life – shedding the negativity, shedding the stress and anxiety and finally, shedding the physical product of that stress and anxiety – the weight.  Several people have asked me how I lost all that weight.  I sheepishly answer, “I eat less and exercise more. . . .”  (Which is the only combination of activities that causes weight loss).  But I do make a concerted effort every day to eat less and every day to exercise more.  If there was any actual magic to it, it was the letting go of my previous life and mindset.

But back to this past spring, when bathing suit season loomed.  I have a colleague friend who has a pool.  She often invites people to come over.  I started to think, could I do it?  Could I deal with bathing suit shopping?  While breast cancer made me a little less modest to be poked and prodded, it also made me a little, um -- lopsided.  I have pretty much come to terms with my lopsidedness because I get special bras to even things out.  However, I hadn’t yet dealt with a post-cancer bathing suit – this was a whole different concept.

However, now it was new me, transformed/transforming me.  So, on the second invitation to the pool, I decided that I’d better go shopping.  Stepping into the store, I braced myself.  In front of me was every size and shape imaginable, most of which I would not wear.  But I started looking and trying on different things.  On.  Off.  On again.  Off again.  After about an hour, I had narrowed my choices down to two suits – two tankinis with shorts.  One looked better overall and one was better at evening out my lopsidedness.  And as I struggled to make the final decision, I had one of those moments of clarity.  I realized that I really didn’t care if the bathing suit covered up my flaws or showed my sumo arms.  I really didn’t think my friends from work would care if my chest was a little lop-sided.  So why should I?  I quickly bought both suits and the next day, went to my friend’s pool, a little more confident, a little less self-concious and ready to be in the sun. 

Postscript:  I have lost more than 50 pounds, many inches and several sizes.  Interestingly enough, the only place on my body where I haven’t lost any inches – my arms!!!! But, at least they are a lot more muscular – I may end up being a sumo wrestler yet!  ;)

Homeless and Homecoming

I have been homeless for one year and one month.  When I say that, I must explain that I have been fortunate enough to have a place to live, just not in my own home.   Last year, I left my home in the middle of the night with only my nightgown on.  I had to leave a bad, impossible and ridiculous situation.  I reached my limit – right then – and I left.  The only option I had that night was to leave my home.  Of course, I had the weird but thankful circumstance that my parents lived next door, so that’s as far as I went that night, but I might as well have gone 1000 miles away considering how my life has changed since that moment.

In one year, I have not slept in my own bed, have not sat on my own couch, have not played my own piano, have not cooked in my own kitchen.   For Christmas, I didn’t decorate a tree (or anything!).  For Thanksgiving, I didn’t use my own dishes.  In summer, I didn’t have my annual croquet tournament.  I didn’t plant a garden and I let the weeds cover my patio.  Life changed.  I was living in limbo, in transition, in transformation.  Home is where your comforts are, until they are no longer comfortable.  Then, it is no longer home. 

With awkwardness in excess, living next door to my own house (and former husband) was short-lived.  I moved further away to the lake house that my parents have been renovating for a few years.  It was a sanctuary.  It was peaceful.  It was separate from the chaos.  It was very comfortable, but it was not home.

I have waited, with teeth clenched, holding my breath, for this new moment.  I am now home.  If you would come to my house, you’d probably think it was pretty dumpy.  It has been neglected for a while.  It needs to be painted.  It needs plumbing work.  It needs to be thoroughly cleaned.  It needs to have floors refinished.  It needs to be renovated.  It needs a lot.  But it’s all mine now and I love it.  It’s old and has character and is beautiful.  However, it is an enormous house for just one person.  So, I’m not sure how long I'm going to stay here.  But I am going to put a lot of work and love into it.  I am a huge fan of architecture and houses – the house deserves to be renovated and renewed.   

Coming home made me reflect on what that word “homecoming” means.  We just recently had Homecoming at school. I have a friend from Columbia who asked me what Homecoming meant.  I told her that the original purpose was a time for alumni to come back and visit and it is a celebration with all sorts of fun events.  So, here I am at my own homecoming -- literally coming home to my house, my stuff, my comforts.  I think I should have my own celebration, maybe not a parade, but at least a party to commemorate this change.  I have been and will continue to be renovated and renewed.   I have come home.

Ladies of the Club

It was almost like being in a club – a pink-and-white robe ladies club.  For several weeks, we met every day in the afternoon in the inner sanctum, the inner waiting room for patients only at radiation oncology at the Stephanie Spielman Breast Center.  We didn’t really have much in common except that we all had breast cancer and radiation was one of our treatments.  The differences were many – different ages, different races, different cities (one woman even traveling two hours each way daily), different stages of cancer, different amounts of hair, different treatments – even our radiation treatments were very different, as we were to find out.  However, we got along tremendously well – because we understood each other.  We compared everything including insurance plans, treatments, surgeries, side effects, travel issues, jobs, family . . . and we laughed.  One other thing we had in common – we were all very thankful.  It may seem odd to be thankful when you have cancer, but sometimes when you have sunk very low, you become very aware of bright spots in your life.  When life puts you in your lowest spot, positive things appear in your life too.

            Of course, I am not saying that having cancer is easy or at all happy.  My experience with breast cancer has been one of the hardest of my life.  I am nearing the anniversary of my first mammogram.  When I turned 40, I decided to get a mammogram simply because that is what doctors recommend.  I have no recent family history of breast cancer and was not alerted by any suspicious lump.  It was a complete shock to find out that I had breast cancer.  Whatever it was, coincidence or divine intervention, that drove me to get my mammogram, I am truly the most thankful for that.  Even though finding this cancer has led to surgeries, chemo treatments and radiation, none of which was at all pleasant, I was very lucky to have my cancer caught at an early stage. 

            I am also very thankful for the care given by the James Cancer Hospital, specifically the Stephanie Spielman Center.  It is clear that the staff chosen to work at the center is carefully selected to deal with the various complicated needs of the patients.  The nurses, doctors and technicians are all the most caring and compassionate medical workers I've ever met.

            While I have had many difficult challenges in my life in the past few years, I keep returning to gratitude and kindness.  You truly do not know to be thankful for something until you risk losing it.  I still get to put on a pink-and-white robe occasionally, but just for check-ups.  Of course, when you’ve had cancer, even check-ups are a little stressful.  But putting on the robe also reminds me of the kindness and camaraderie of the other patients and staff.  I’m not sure what happened to all of those women, some of whom were on their second journey through cancer.  But what I do know is that life is better when you can see your shared humanity and when you are kind to each other.  Kindness does matter.