Cancer is not a fun thing to have. It was scary. It was sickening. It was tiring. It was shaming. Shaming? I know it it sounds strange but I was ashamed and, because of that, I determined not to do something that I now regret.
I wasn’t ashamed to have cancer, but, especially when I lost my hair, I was ashamed of my body image and, because of that, I chose not to have too many photos of myself, especially when I lost my hair. I was pale. I was bald. I felt horrible. I agreed to photos in my wig, but even those looked quite obvious. The one to the left my aunt had sent me and that one was not too bad until I ruined it. (FYI! Don’t work at a hot oven with a wig on! They melt! True story!)
I did not even allow photos of my head
until my hair started growing out.
I wore hats a lot!
When my hair started growing, even then I was cautious with the amount of photos taken of me.
And when I did decide to go out without a hat, mousse because my best friend. Hey, I was rockin’ it!
In hindsight, I would look back and wonder why I chose not to document that low part of my life with photos.
If I had a choice, I would. Cancer was part of my life. It is part of my history.
I need to embrace the valleys with the mountain tops because, in the end,
You need to remember the bad to know how far you have come.
cancer was a huge mountain that I conquered.