I want to begin by acknowledging my thin privilege. While I’ve never considered myself skinny, maintaining a doctor approved BMI has never been a struggle. I typically hover between 10-15 lbs over my ideal weight because (in stark contrast with the Kate Moss tagline) I think there are about 1 million things that taste better than being skinny feels. I genuinely love salad and other traditionally healthy foods, but also I love decadent meals and dessert enthusiasm is not an insignificant part of my personality. I will go through periods of regular exercise, when I’m feeling particularly into a gym class or motivated by a distance running goal, but I workout so I can eat what I want and stay active/capable late in life. I don’t love working out.

So that’s my behavioral baseline. And then I started cancer treatment.

So many things have happened this year that make me feel like I’m not in control of my body. Cancer is a weird violation of self-love and body acceptance because the “bad cancer cells” are still part of your body. It’s quite literally a cellular rebellion against the self. On top of that, I (fortunately) never had physical symptoms until my first suspicious mammogram, but that made starting treatment a head trip because I felt like my body was being upended for an imperceptible problem. Treatment felt like the cause, not the cure, of my problems. My hair, digestion/appetite, energy, mental acuity, etc. were all suddenly things I had no control over. I made my peace with so much of it during the thick of chemo, but now that things are ending and so much is returning to normal, I feel acutely aware of and fixated on the things that have not returned to normal. And my hyperfixation of the moment is my weight.

An incomplete list of things that affect weight during treatment:

Everything makes you unfathomably tired: The biggest side effect during all treatment phases was fatigue. I was zapped and drained in every way and I just didn’t want to do anything except play Zelda BOTW while watching Netflix. People love to point out that exercising in this state will actually reduce your fatigue and share stories about people who trained for marathons during treatment, but OMG * dramatic eye roll * PLZ STOP. It’s hard to get out of a fatigue spiral. I went from half marathon capable to incapable of running basic errands in 2 months.
Steroids: As part of each chemo infusion, I was given steroids to help my body offset the worst side effects in the 24-48 hours. This was amazing, but you know, steroids make your body retain calories like crazy.
I could only eat carbs: Many people answer the question, “what should I eat during chemo?” with “whatever you can.” My appetite decreased dramatically, but the only foods I had any interest in eating were carbs and occasionally cheese. Bring on the bread and crackers. Peanut butter toast, mac&cheese, broth-based soups, greek yogurt, and occasionally grain salads were my go-to staples. For digestive reasons I DON’T WANT TO GET INTO, I couldn’t eat the salad greens, veggies, and fruit I normally rely on.
Hormones and Menopause: My cancer experience began with fertility preservation. IVF hormones do a number of crazy things to your body, weight being only one of them. And then swinging in the opposite direction, chemo induces menopause. I am coming out of this now, but my hormones are all over the place. The hot flashes were the worst part of this for me, but it affects weight, mood, and a whole host of things in so many weird ways. If you know someone going through menopause right now, oh man, give them a hug and a cold compress. It sucks.

But now treatment is over. There is a type of cancer patient who goes a little orthorexic in response to cancer, who dives too deep into the "here’s how sugar feeds your cancer cells” type nutrition rabbit holes and focuses on eating “clean.” I am not that. Opposite.

I want to get back to my regular size and feel good about that, but but but also I missed my appetite soooo much and I just WANT TO EAT EVERYTHING. Cocktails, steak, various things deep fried and covered in spicy sauces and sugary glazes, enormous sandwiches, tacos, and pastry, so much pastry. My brain is just a looping video of Templeton the Rat’s Smorgasbord song from Charlotte’s Web. I want to give my appetite the time in the sun she deserves, but I also want to return to the body I had before the conga-line of medical care began.

And I know that, all things considered, I shouldn’t be hung up on what, in the grand scheme of things, is small number of pounds. This body got me through chemo, surgery, and radiation, shouldn’t I have emerged from this process with a new and profound sense of love and embrace of my body? But no, I have not. I’m cancer free, but I’m still a little bit petty.

In the continued theme of “cancer is not a lesson”, traumatic experiences don’t instantly turn us into zen masters. That’s the work that follows. My body still feels like an obstacle and for now I’m just going to sit with that discomfort as best as I can while I figure out a new relationship to health.