It’s funny how different we all think our lives would be, if we just had one thing that was different.
A different job, a different house, different family. Different looks. A different body.
I don’t think I could even estimate the number of times I’ve wondered if my excess booty “gave me cancer.” I try so hard not to take that blame on, as I really think it might break me. I’ve lived a relatively healthy life most of the time, but my weight has never been my friend. Even when I was at my thinnest (minor anorexia in high school), I’ve never really loved my body.
In 2009, when I started doing triathlons, even though I finished, I thought of myself as too big, too slow. I have finished several tris now, but I always made excuses.
The only exception, ironically, was 2001, when I did Seattle’s first Breast Cancer 3 Day. It was a great experience, and I decided that if I was going to walk my ass off, I would do Weight Watchers, DID the program, and in losing 50 lbs, actually did walk my ass off.
I’m sure that slimmer body made it easier to get pregnant a little more than a year later. I don’t blame my current girth on an 11 year old & baby weight. I gained a LOT, but lost most of it nursing. It’s just easier to sit. Or to eat. And today’s crazy ass hormones absolutely do not help.
In so many ways, I want to be the theoretical me who never had cancer, and can just move on. She’s a better wife, a better mother, a better friend than I am. She has more energy, and gets sleep at night, and volunteers for stuff.
But then I read statistics about the likelihood that it may come back. And I can’t just be that theoretical person.
So I think about things like working on my weight again. Theoretically, all I have to do is be more physically active & eat less.
But in truth, I’m almost paralyzed with fear.
It doesn’t help that there are so many other things to be stressed about. Work, Christmas, race relations in America. If it’s a thing, I can find a way to be stressed about. And being more active is not as easy in Seattle in the Winter. I’m not a skier, and I don’t like to be cold.
I even write all sorts of theoretical blogs in my head. But if I don’t post then maybe people won’t read my next one. And I can say out loud that I’m scared. Ninjas are supposed to be strong and fight. 50 years is a great theoretical goal, but it’s a really long effing time. What if I’m not lucky? What if it comes back? What if I do all the work, lose the weight that I want to, and it STILL comes back.
Over the next few months, I’m going to try to do better about some of the things, to see if they help with the rest of the things. I’m seeing a Naturopathic Doctor, who specializes in survivorship. Perhaps I’ll find the courage to do what I need & take charge again. I know that I CAN do it.
At least… theoretically.