Mirror Mirror...

I used to pay a LOT of attention to how I looked before having kids.

I enjoyed taking a good hard look at myself in the mirror before going out.

Hair...check, makeup...check, outfit...check!

Then babies arrived.

There was a little less paying attention to the mirror and a lot more paying attention to the teeny bundles of love in my life.

I still made the effort to look nice but going out with regurgitated breast milk on my shoulder was par for the course. Badge of honour really!

These days, I look in the mirror to draw on my eyebrows and paint what is left of my eyelashes and I'm afraid that its becoming a demoralising exercise.

My vanity has taken a big hit this year and although, in general, I believe that is a good thing, there are times when looking at my reflection causes a sharp intake of breath and I am shocked with what I can see.

Chemo has made my very pale, freckle prone skin incredibly photo-sensitive. Five minutes in the winter sun adds a dozen freckles to my face. I don't mind freckles in general...had plenty of them as a kid and each summer as an adult the smattering of freckles across my nose become more prominent. But when I look at my skin now, I see the damage that chemo has done. Freckles aren't cute anymore...they're a sign that my fragile, vunerable skin is in distress.

The wispy hair that covers my head should excite me because HEY, I'VE GOT HAIR AGAIN!!! But surprisingly, I burst into tears when I first noticed it a couple of weeks ago. Such an odd reaction. I can't even explain why, it just brought a huge wave of sadness. I don't know, maybe I spent too long telling myself that going bald was trivial and it didn't matter, when it really did.

I suppose I feel like the inner me is so far removed from the outer shell of me. I'm only 36 but the woman looking back at me from the mirror is 80. I'm past wanting to look gorgeous, I just want to look my age.

Maybe I need another stint in the Oncology ward to get my navel gazing issues sorted out. I should be grateful that chemo and surgery and soon-to-be-radiation is giving me the gift of life. The physical fallout should be superfluous right? Then why does it feel so wrong?

Mirror Mirror on the wall

Who's the biggest hypocrite of them all?

 

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