This is at least the 6th time I’ve started to write in the last month.  Most of the time I’ve gotten as far as the punny title of what’s rolling around in my head.  Sometimes I’ve had a whole line, but in general, there just hasn’t been much to share, or at least that I think anyone wants to talk about.  Here’s a smattering of what I would have written, if I had taken the time, over the last few weeks.

Invested- So one of those totally random things that no one mentions, but that makes sense.  Silicone implants don’t retain heat the way actual boobs do. So I have a new favorite jacket- a hot pink fleece vest.  It keeps the boobs warmer, but still allows me to regulate my over heating moments.

Siezed up- This was a week where I was tired of carpe-ing every damn diem. I just wanted to let someone else go seize the day for a while. I’m over it, but for a while, I was over trying so hard to live out loud.

Flow? No, Pause! So this is likely the biggest piece of news.  Back in December I went off of Tamoxifen, and started taking Arimidex. We were trying to help me with the headaches & hot flashes. And it totally did.  Less headaches, less hot flashes. The other thing that I knew going in to the switch, aromatase inhibitors can not block estrogen created by the ovaries.  We did a blood test to see if I was in menopause, and thought that I was. Nope.
So then I had a REALLY bad period. No need to go into details, just know, it was horrible. And did another blood test. I was out of menopause. So now I’m back on Tamoxifen. And just in the last couple of weeks, have been having headaches again. Along with the hot flashes.

All the, Small Things– This one is particularly ironic today. I was writing about how great the sidekick (aka my husband of 17 years) is, and how he may not always do big flashy things for me, but he does the little things that mean so much in a long term relationship. Lets me sleep in one morning. Takes care of our taxes. Doesn’t play a video game that he knows distracts me when I’m working from home.  The last couple of weeks I’ve been referring to myself as “the bad cop” at work.  Not a favorite role of mine, but one I’m capable of when needed. So he ordered the mini-figure from the Lego Movie, “Bad Cop.” And on a day when I joked that I should just start drinking at 8:45a, my day was completely made.

But this weekend we went to Olympia, to help my mom clean out my old room. I’d say only 10% of what was in there was mine anymore, which makes sense, since I hadn’t slept there since 1996, but I brought home a big box of pictures & letters from my mom & friends when I used to spend 6 weeks in the summer with my dad in Alaska. I’m kind of looking forward to looking through it, but it was another reminder of the most recent blog I’d started in my head.

Sometimes I feel like I’m looking in a funhouse mirror.  My chest is almost as big as it was before, but it’s almost like I’m always wearing a minimizer. They’re not shaped like they were for the first 38 years for my life. It had been years since I could see my tummy, or my feet for that matter. That is no longer the case.

Growing up, I always thought I was fat. I wore hugely loose clothes whenever I could. But in those pictures I found this weekend, there was a healthy looking kid.  Was I as thin as some of my friends? No, but I also never felt the need to stuff my bra.

We all have body issues. I did before my boobs tried to kill me. But even when I’m having a tough day, and I don’t really feel like seizing anything, I can remember one small thing.

I am loved, no matter what mirror I’m using. And that is no small thing.