Okay... I was a moderately vain girl before breast cancer. I mean, my head wasn't so large that I believed that every man wanted me. I knew that was fallacy. However, I did feel that the men who did find me attractive... found me VERY attractive. I liked that feeling -- even if i didn't always know how to work with it or handle it. Being desired is a fantastic feeling, right?
The next big blow to my self-esteem came from the horrible effects of radiation therapy. Oh my gawd. They warned me that I would look different, that the radiation treatment would burn me and scar me. But dang. I had no idea that the scarring would be so serious. I have walked around with this ridiculous square of blackened skin on my chest for almost two years now. And the final straw... was the scarring across my chest, my abdomen and my hips from my reconstruction surgery. Yes, I was excited to have my noobie (new boobie) but I looked patched together like Frankenstein. I had these horrible scars that zipped around my noobie... and skated around my reduced breast... and then zig-zagged from hip to hip across my lower abdomen. The finished look was far from flattering. At least to me. And all of these surgeries happened within the span of one year. I can tell you now... I was horrified at the way that I looked under my clothes.
Well, now that it has been over a year since my last procedure and my scars are slowly (and I do mean SLOWLY) fading and lightening up... I have found the courage to look at myself in the mirror and just take in the way that I look. I figured that it would be difficult to share my body with a man if I could not look at it myself. So, over the last couple of years, I've tasked myself with regularly just staring at my whole body in the full length mirror in my bathroom.
In the beginning, I couldn't look at myself everyday. It was just too much, too jarring. I would burst into tears and then hide from myself whenever I got dressed or stepped out of the tub or shower. But, like I said, I'm still healing. The vitamin E has been helping my scars to fade and even out. The Shea butter has been working to give my skin back some of its elasticity (that chemo is a beast on your skin too).
A few weeks ago, I got a new cellphone. It is a fancy Droid phone and it is absolutely fantastic. I didn't realize how much I was missing out on with my old phone but now I know. Smart phones are simply incredible. And guess what? They have cameras. (wink) You can take a picture. Of yourself even. (wow!) I have started to do that now and then. Ha, ha. Scandalous, yes... I know. But I do.
About a year ago (maybe longer) I was contacted by a photographer who stumbled onto my blog. He wanted to take boudoir pictures of me as a part of a project he was working on. He had taken a few pictures with other survivors and offered me a chance to have my own set of sexy pictures. Before cancer, I fantasized about taking sexy pictures of myself but I never mustered up the courage to do it. When the offer came, I accepted immediately... and then after thinking about it... I flaked. I couldn't do it. I wanted the pictures but I didn't want a stranger to take pictures of my body. I still didn't want to look at myself, I certainly wasn't ready for someone who looked at beautiful models all the time, to then look at my disfigured shell and try to make it look sexy. I just didn't think that I had sexy in me. Not at that level anyway.
Back to my new phone. I'm more comfortable now with looking at my naked body and one day as I was getting out of the shower I realized that my phone was actually with me in the bathroom... and before I knew it, SNAP! I had taken a picture of myself. I snapped a few more then scurried to my room to shut the door and get dressed. But I looked at those pictures for quite some time. Eventually, I got to a point where it didn't bother me to look at myself naked. Since that day, I've taken a lot of pictures of myself... various poses... highlighting different parts of me and whatnot. I have to tell you... it is LIBERATING as hell to look at yourself and finally be able to say (and believe)... I look good.
I look good. I really... look good. The scars no longer scare me. I do hate the way that my skin is discolored from the radiation but I love my port removal scar. I don't particularly care for the way that I have a scar that looks like a c-section scar (since I don't have children) and yet... I like my strangely Barbie-esque belly. I like myself. And (gulp, confession time) I've gotten a few compliments too.
What's that feeling? Desire? I am... gasp... clutch your pearls... a desirable woman AFTER breast cancer? Stop the presses! Really?
Yes. Really. I am desirable and sexy and beautiful and attractive and all of that goes far deeper than my nakedness or my scars. It goes directly to the heart of me.
You have just read the confessions of a breast cancer survivor sexter.
I am not ashamed of what I've done. Nor am I afraid to look at my body or to show it off either. That doesn't mean that I've lost all of my conservativeness and will begin to parade around naked. No. I am still the same girl who gets dressed behind closed doors and covers things up probably more than I have to. But now I am very confident that my body -- with its scars and shades and lumps -- is really a beautiful thing. And that revelation has made everything worthwhile.
I am sexy. Take THAT! breast cancer.