Dealing With Collateral Damage

I went shopping this weekend for clothes. I've lost weight and my pants were getting too loose for me to wear comfortably. I'm wearing a size that I have not worn in a very long time, probably since I first got married. It's hard to believe I'm wearing such a smaller size so I have trouble picking the right size, and believing I actually need the smaller size. In fact, I returned to the store today and exchanged some tops because I realized I'd grabbed a larger size out of habit and had not even bothered to see if the smaller size might work just as well, or better.

I am proud and grateful for the weight loss, and it's a nice "problem" to have, but it's a heckuva way to get there. I really didn't do anything to bring it on--my body has made it such that I really have no choice but to comply (or pay a price I do not want to pay for not staying within the boundaries now conscribed upon me by my condition). I've come to consider the weight loss as collateral damage from one of the most unsettling battles of my life.

I can not overeat without pain (mostly minor, but still, discomfort) and gastronomical distress. I now limit my consumption of refined sugar because "they" say "sugar feeds cancer." I try to avoid high fat meals (and have mostly succeeded) because "they" (my doctors) told me to. I've been called up and put on a short leash.

Some might resent that. I might resent that, at times, but only for a short while. Sugar, cakes and cookies in particular, has always been one of my greatest culinary loves. But when faced with the possibility that your bad habits might shorten your life, well, who (in their right, best mind) doesn't want to live? I want to be clear, I am referring to myself alone. There are others who can eat what they want and (apparently, possibly) slide by without consequence, but I have do not have that luxury, and I have, much of the time, a teachable spirit, so I am learning from my experience, and trying to make changes.

For me, there are now these boundaries. And rather than chafe and strain against them, I (for the most part, most of the time!) choose to accept and embrace them as best I can in hopes of coming out on the other side of this trial a healthier, leaner, and freer me. I do not want to waste this opportunity that is ensconced in my momentary suffering.

Apparently chemo makes my fingernails grow stronger. Today I painted them. The color is called "Tough Love." It occurs to me that is what I have had to do for my body and myself, practice a little bit of tough love by saying no to some of these things I want that are not good for me.

Also, I don't want to ignore the quote printed on the journal that my short little fingers are resting on. I am brave, strong, and smart. There have been days (years) when I didn't know that so well. But I'm now far more aware of it than I have been in the past. I've had many opportunities to prove it to my very own self.