Tuesday, March 8, 2011

In My Other Hand

There is continued adjusting to this phase of self.  I realize this is my transition body.  It won't always look this way.

It is though, the body I live in now.

I get compliments on my hair frequently.  Even strangers talk to me about it, giving compliments like "I love your sassy haircut."  They think I've gone all Pink or Hallie Berry or something.  Thank you, I say, I earned this hair and I tell em how. 

I notice when I spill food while eating now, it drops onto my lap.  My breasts no longer provide a shelf for drips of salsa or mustard or egg yolk.  I am not using Spray and Wash on my t-shirts and blouses now, and I'm sure Husband misses the fun of pointing out the spots midway through a meal.

I don't feel like a girly girl right now, although I am enjoying my Barbra Streisand fingernails.  I feel a bit like a tomboy with the super short hair and no boobies, and diminishing estrogen.

I am beginning to understand Mother Nature's use of estrogen, keeping us soft and accommodating, gentle and compromising, during the child-bearing, child-raising years.  Estrogen adds a filter and a buffer, like rose colored glasses and a network censor.  Estrogen encourages selflessness and patience with the opposite sex and in general.  Estrogen is a peacekeeper.

No boobs, no big pageant hair, and no estrogen? Isn't that three out of four of the ingredients needed to make explosives at home or start a revolution?  I hope Homeland Security is not monitoring this blog now.

I miss my boobies, day to day.  I miss their flounce and their bounce.  I miss their buoyant effect and their effect on boys.  I miss stuffing them into a bra, and making all the necessary adjustments.  I miss them tumbling out of a bra at night.  I miss them kindly hiding my view of my Pooh Bear tummy. 

I am transitioning from former blond brain who frequently never made her own priority list, to platinum estrogen-less brain who is now at the top of her own list. 

"Yes" used to fall from my lips without consulting with me first.  I am getting very good at "No" or "That doesn't work for me" or "This is what I'd like to do."

I'm not afraid to stick up for myself or you not liking my answer.  I ain't worried about messing up the hair, or boobs knocking me out if I have to give chase.

Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident, and riches take wings. Only one thing endures and that is character.  Horace Greeley

I've graduated from vapor to granite Horace.

Let me tell you something important I learned.

If you are diagnosed with cancer,
you will stare into your hand
and mourn all you will lose
and fear you will lose.

The miracle happens
when you look in your other hand.

Cancer comes with an offering
of a spiritual journey,
if you are willing to take it,
if you have the courage
to look into the other hand and see it there.

Listen real close to this next thing.

How blessed are those
who see the blessings
and take the journey
offered precious every day,
without ever having to hold cancer
in the other hand.



Martha said...

Amen. I have told many that even though this journey I've been on for nearly a year now has been one I didn't wish for, one littered with fears and doubts, it has also been one where I have redisovered my many blessings. The blessings of family, the blessings of friends and the blessings of strangers.

My hair is growing back now and as the waiter at a DQ drive up window handed me my ice-cream, he said "Have a nice day, sir." It is what it is! And earlier the same day one of my wonderful students asked me if I was growing a baby in my tummy since it is now much more prominent without my boobs to hide it!

And yet, I still feel blessed. Have a wonderful day!

Anonymous said...

Debbie - What a beautiful poem. Brought tears to my eyes. I heard about your blog through, Guy, the most fabulous piano teacher ever. I am a brain tumor survivor. If you have the time or the energy, maybe we could meet? Call Guy if you want my contact info.

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