Our Bodies, Ourselves

My coach told me today that my recovery has to include learning to love my body. I laughed. Turns out that wasn’t the correct response.

I started to hate my body when I was 7 and my stepmother fed me Limmits biscuits (remember them?) and Ayds. I thought you ate them as well as tea, and got laughed at for that. Looking at old photos I wasn’t fat. I was on the school netball team and the rounders team, and I was active. I went swimming every week, and loved it. I went for walks on weekends, chased after my dog, lagged behind when people with longer legs and bigger lungs strode ahead up the hills of Lancashire and Yorkshire, and still got to the top.

But, I got the message that I was overweight and unacceptable. That my thighs were gross, and my cheeks too round. That my (normal, healthy) appetite was not okay. If I asked for dessert when we went out for dinner, I got a look. My father called me a balloon and said I ran like a hippo – he made me stand in goal when we played football in the park. I I felt fat all through my teens and twenties (I was size 10-12). I took up smoking at 14 because it curbed my appetite.

Then I had babies and after the second one I put on weight. My hair started falling out. I ballooned. I was tearful and tired.Fat phobia surfaced in the clinical responses – have you tried losing the baby weight? Are you getting any exercise? How about keeping a daily journal to record what you’re eating?6 months down the road, maternity leave over, weight stubbornly not shifting, I got a call from my GP while I was in a board meeting: my thyroid was no longer functioning, hadn’t been for months, probably since pregnancy. I needed medication urgently.That weight took a long time to shift.

30 years on and I have cancer and diabetes. The latter apparently, from some, my fault for being overweight. The former made worse by the extra poundage.

Have I tried exercise? I am exhausted from chemo and surgery but still I drag my sad tired body out daily for a plod. I have my wonderful coach. I run up four flights of stairs every day – and down.

Would I like dietary advice? My diet is pretty much keto. I don’t eat until after 11am, I have two meals a day, I have virtually no carbs. Occasional slices of sourdough. No potatoes, pasta, rice, pastry, flatbreads, crisps, chips, ever….sometimes I have a glass of wine to help me relax in the evening. I measure out 100ml exactly. I have lost weight – was delighted when the scales proved it, then worked out how much a breast weighs…

Now- when I am mutilated after surgery, hairless after chemo, tired and sore, nails blackened and ridged, eyes gummy – I must learn to love my body. Where to start? And, more importantly, how to make sure that my story isn’t one that gets passed down the generations?

My body is healing itself. It gets me up every day, The hair is growing back – grey and soft. I have almost full movement in my arm, 13 days post-surgery. I ran today, for the first time in a fortnight. I am learning to listen to my body, to pay attention when it needs a rest, to tell the difference between hunger and boredom, to soothe my chemo-blasted skin with oil, to look at my scar with pride, albeit tinged with sadness.I am learning to love my body, but it is a hard lesson. I hope by doing this I can be a good role model to my granddaughters, who are un-self-consciously at home in their bodies, confident in what they can do, full of energy. Utterly beautiful. I may kill anyone who tries to tell them otherwise.