Feeling almost pretty 💅

One of the greatest discoveries of my adult life was the nail technician.

I grew up a terrible nail biter and finding acrylic nails was life changing. As the technology progressed and we got the even better gel polishes I was able to abandon acrylic and have my own manicured, polished nails. I loved it.

One of the greatest shocks of chemotherapy was nail havoc. What was particularly disturbing about it was that it didn't happen until after chemo had finished - I guess because the damage was done to the nail bed and it took time for it to grow out. After chemotherapy had ended and while I was physically improving my finger nails were all lifting off their nail beds and falling off. It was shocking, sore and ugly!

A year post chemo my nails are still not right. The nail bed is damaged. However, I can finally stand someone touching them. I am currently sporting long, pink finger nails. Hooray for small victories!

It is fair to say that cancer doesn't tolerate vanity. I have never thought of myself as particularly vain - but cancer has tested me to my limits. It took every physical thing I liked about myself. Proud of your hair - gone. Proud of your eyelashes - gone. Proud of your boobs - gone. Proud of your eyebrows - gone. Proud of your gym honed arms - gone. Proud of your décolletage- well too bad your port is going there. Proud of your post chemo skinny body - gone and replaced with lots of retained fluid, cankles and a fat arm. It has been very confronting and I had to dig deep and believe that I am a lot more than all the things that cancer took away from me. But deep down I felt like a hideous, pale, hag.

This year I have tried to focus on how I feel (my physical recovery from what my body has gone through) and not my looks (or lack theeeof). I have concentrated on exercise, sleep and nutrition and I have given up alcohol. I have avoided mirrors.

And then all of sudden we needed new website photos for work. "Oh hell", I thought "Should I wear a wig?" and I kind of died inside. I then promptly (and very conveniently) caught covid and caused a two month delay to the website photo shoot.

Now, I do not deny that I needed new website photos as I look quite different to my old self. I had aspirational hirsuteness to start with and I think my head shot was probably 10 years old.

The day of the photo shoot dawned grey and overcast. I was sent off to hair and make up. Like most women I am very reliant on my hairdresser. Ben is an artiste. He's had his work cut out for him this year as my hair grows back, thick, curly and wild.

Last year Ben cut my hair short before chemo and shaved it off during it. My pre chemo haircut was fabulous. I am looking forward to it getting back to that length. With lots of product, heat and straighteners, Ben worked magic on my wild locks. Then off to Mac for my face. And this is what happened...

I am absolutely delighted to look and feel like a whole, well person and that the effect appears intentional. I'd never have had the courage to cut my hair short if it wasn't for cancer and I like it. It was quite a shock to me to see the photos and realise that my idea of me was different to the reality. I look fine.

It is a bit like looking back at photos of me in my 20s and 30s. I want to shout at my younger self "You are lovely! Stop fretting over how you look. Just enjoy yourself."

I also feel fantastic. I continue to work hard in the gym and walk. I have been gaining muscle and losing fat. I can squeeze into my jeans. My fluidly arm is fluidy no longer - it is testing normal. In the gym I can lift the same amount of weight with both arms. I am now working hard to be in the best condition I can be for my reconstruction surgery in May next year.

"I feel almost pretty" is quite a bold statement for a middle aged woman to make. When you are in a fight for your life, the lots of little losses aren't that important compared to being alive. But when you collect back all the things society measures beauty by, you do feel pretty stoked about it.