Self Image and Wellness: What Breast Cancer Taught Me About Beauty

The New Post Cancer Me

Self Image and Wellness

According to the World Health Organization, the definition of wellness is "...a state of complete physical, mental, and social well-being, and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity."  Over the next year,  I will be using this blog as a way to explore the myriad of issues that fit into that definition.  Today, I am focusing on the mental and social parts by taking on the subject of self image.  I believe that for everyone, having a positive self image is one of the most important aspects of being "well" and feeling "whole."    

Girls and women often struggle with their self image.  In our culture, there are so many images of the idealized version of "beauty" bombarding us constantly.  Self acceptance of our bodies is often a struggle.  But who really decides what is "beautiful"?  Growing up, I was a skinny girl with glasses.  As a teen, I felt like a "plain Jane" because I didn't have large breasts or nice curves.  I was often jealous of the girls who had the looks that, at the time, I thought of as beautiful.

As I got older, I learned to accept myself and the way I looked, but there was always a voice inside telling me that there was something not quite right. That "something" would change from time to time.  Sometimes it was my weight, particularly after having children.  Sometimes it was cellulite, big feet, bad hair days, love handles or acne.  Advertisements and the media fed into my self doubts by trying to sell me beauty fixes, push up bras, and cosmetics.  But it was breast cancer that really taught me about true self acceptance.

Redefining Beauty 

Breast cancer stripped me down to the core.  It robbed me of a breast, the very thing that often defines a woman's femininity.  Chemo robbed me of my hair.  I looked in the mirror one day, and I didn't see "me" any more.  I found myself constantly hiding.  Hiding my bald head under a wig or a scarf.  Hiding my eyes under the brim of a hat because I didn't have all of my eyelashes or eyebrows. Hiding the flat side of my chest after I had my mastectomy.  You get the picture. And so began the internal struggle to find myself again and to learn to love and accept the new me.  It is my hope that by sharing my struggles, someone else will be inspired to stop worrying about how the culture and the media define beauty and start living life by your own definition.


The following is a poem I wrote about that stripped down, cancer induced, version of myself (I call her cancer girl) and how I grew to accept the new me.

An Unwanted Visitor

She tried to defeat me,
By turning me into someone I didn't know.
I couldn't see any beauty in my reflection,
As long as she was around.

Her scar flashed across my chest like lightning. 

Her poison turned my skin to ash.
She snatched away my hair.

As time passed,  I tried to hide her from the world.
I covered her, hid her, painted myself back onto her face.
Until I realized that she was me, after all.
Not a visitor.  I was her, and she was me.
Her scar is mine now.
Her hair, soft and new, is on my head.
And instead of ugliness,
I now see beauty, strength, hope and............ LIFE!

Breasts Do Not Define Me

After mastectomy, the day I got my breast prothesis, lovingly called a "foob".  

Breast cancer has also taught me that a woman doesn't need to have breasts to feel complete and that being flat on one or both sides doesn't make her any less beautiful.  The decision about whether or not to have breast reconstruction surgery following a mastectomy is a very personal one.  Sometimes it feels like there is societal pressure to have reconstruction.  People often make comments as if they just assume that I want to have fake boobs, or that a "boob job" is like a little "perk" of having breast cancer.  Let me assure you that there are no "perks".  Some women feel that they want to have reconstruction to make them feel whole, or to look good in their clothes.  Others, like me, may decide against reconstruction because they don't want to deal with another surgery, or that they feel comfortable enough with themselves without breasts.   Sometimes, because of medical reasons, a reconstruction surgery might fail, or a woman is unable to have the surgery in the first place.  I have learned that it is absolutely OKAY, no matter what choice is made.   In fact, according to a recent JAMA Surgery study, about 58% of women having mastectomies remain flat (http://archsurg.jamanetwork.com/article.aspx?articleid=1893807) .  I discovered a group of fellow "flatties" online through a website called "Flat and Fabulous" (http://www.flatandfabulous.org) who have inspired me with their wonderful attitudes about living life without breasts.  I'm happy with my decision to remain flat on one side, whether I wear my "foob" (fake boob) or not.

"Flat and Fabulous" Me

A Beautiful Transformation

My point is that I have learned to accept and love myself and all my flaws, including the ones that society doesn't value as beautiful.  Butterflies are often used as a symbol of the transformation a woman goes through during breast cancer and it's aftermath.  The analogy certainly rang true for me, and I would like to leave you with another poem that I wrote towards the end of my chemotherapy treatments.   I wish for every girl and every woman to find her own definition of beauty and to see it in herself, no matter what the circumstances.  Life is beautiful and so are you.

Growing Wings

Cocoon
I look down through a sea of tears
At my white limbs, pale as the moon.
I see my battle wounds and take note of my missing pieces.
I'm in a dark place, but enveloped in a protective isolation.

Chrysalis
I'm getting stronger now in this sheltered state.
I grow a hard shell and inside I'm changing.
A storm rages here, wind blows all around me.
Some things are lost here, while others are gained.

Metamorphosis 
Eventually, the storm clouds pass.
I feel the sun, I hear your voice.
And that is how I know it's time to re-emerge.

Transformation
I see my fledgling wings stretching out
And they are full of beauty, just like you said they'd be.
I shed my old shell, full of things I no longer need,
Now that I am free.  Now that I can fly.