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As I mentioned before, I am lucky enough to have a well-shaped head. I had A LOT of hair though, so I think it made my head seemed bigger than it really is. So now I feel extremely pear-shaped. Seriously: little head, narrow shoulders, child-birthin’ hips…PEAR shaped. (there’s Good Pear-Shaped like Marilyn Monroe, and then there’s Pear-Shaped like a real pear. Wait, maybe Marilyn was an hourglass? Whatever. I think my hair kind of balanced my shape.)

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I know, I know, this is a small thing compared to CANCER and getting well. But even though illness has invaded my life, I can’t stop being the me that has a fascination with my own body image (I know I’m not alone).

In my pre-cancer life, I enjoyed some pretty major stints with health and fitness. After my dad passed away last February, I found myself needing to prove that I was alive by entering into all kinds of races and fitness routines. I believe my dad literally wasted away by poor health choices, and genetics being what they are, I decided that I could do something to change my future. When the going got rough, I found myself tearing up yet fighting for success. I would not end in a bed tied to machines! We were out several weekends a month, pretending to be major athletes. We joined a new gym, made appointments with personal trainers, and for a whole month, I became devoted to a daily dose of a green smoothie.

But now, after five long months of fatigue, I find myself barely able to make it around the block. And my beloved 90-minute yoga routines? Right. I might be able to work in a 15-minute slow flow session for beginners. My “downward dog” is more like “sagging sloth” right now.

In the grand scheme of things, I have lost some muscle tone and I have gained five pounds. THIS IS NOT A BIG DEAL. But at the same time, THIS IS A BIG DEAL. For me, this is a loss of control over something that has always been fairly easy to control (type A rearing its ugly head!). After three pregnancies and a hysterectomy surgery, I was always able to bounce back pretty quick. But the cancer stuff is longer that those things. Not a life sentence, just longer.

I know I’ll regain my strength, and I know I will get my old self back. I might even come back better than before and give Marilyn’s shape a run for its money! So even though I feel misshaped and odd and tired and slightly puffy, at least I am still here and attempting to fight. My bald head may make my butt look fat (or that might be where I’m carrying the calories ingested by consistent drinking of ginger ale) but this too shall pass. I will re-grow my hair, shrink my backside, and seek the holy grail of fitness and health once again.

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