Not going to lie: I’ve gained weight. I’ve gained a lot of weight. I lost weight for a couple of days, and then—whomp, surprise!—I gained a crap ton of weight.
I’m eating more than twice what I was. My treatment team has been around for two weeks and they’ve pushed me really hard. I am obsessed with pizza now!!
My body is changing. I do not have a thigh gap when I stand. Love handles are a thing again. My arms look sort of flabby. I have saddle bags. My boobs have shot up two cup sizes.
I feel fat. I feel like I eat more than any girl on campus. And maybe I do.
But I’m a lot more beautiful. Maybe not to myself completely yet, but to others.
My friend called me “slender, but not TOO slender. Just-right slender,” and I wanted to be offended, and I wanted to yell “TRIGGER!!!!!!” and run off into the night screaming. And sure, it’s a poorly worded compliment, but… it’s a compliment. They actually took notice of me and told me I was “just right” instead of awkwardly avoiding any mention of my appearance. They took time out of their day to tell me I looked good in their own weirdo way.
My boyfriend thinks that I am perfect. He doesn’t see my imperfections the way I do. To him, my flaws aren’t things that need to be changed. It’s a refreshing perspective.
People think I’m pretty. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on my appearance.
Obviously I’m not doing this for the approval of others and ultimately no one else’s opinion matters… but it’s nice. It’s nice to be considered attractive. It’s nice to get positive attention instead of being treated like a freak show.
I’m starting to like some things about my reflection, and that is astronomical.