Long before sunscreen was a standard ingredient in moisturizer, I stayed out of the sun. I exercised, did yoga, ate grains, avoided meat, colored my hair and maintained a body mass index of 18. Though I loved it when people thought I was a decade younger than my actual age, I never for one moment relaxed in my battle against aging.
Then I was diagnosed with cancer. My breasts were removed. My hair fell out. My once-perfect skin was scarred from surgery, my formerly limber joints creaked, my rosy skin turned sallow and steroids included in my chemotherapy shot my weight up 20 pounds.
Today, at 46, I’m in menopause. I carry an extra 10 pounds that just won’t go away. I have wrinkles, graying hair and limited flexibility. I also have a profound sense of my “real” beauty. Where I once sought perfection, I now celebrate my life, am my triumph over disease gives me a beauty no cream or vial can provide.
I once believed that I’d be going for injections to smooth those lines around my mouth and brow. But now I’m proud to look my age; I’ve earned every year.
My hope is that you’ll be proud of what you’ve done to fight your disease. You’ve earned the right to stand tall no matter what sickness had done to your body. Don’t believe for a second you aren’t gorgeous because anyone who can do what we have, look cancer in the eye and refuse to blink, is truly, deeply, spiritually beautiful.
Excerpt from Beauty Pearls for Chemo Girls c. 2009
Marybeth Maida is the author of Beauty Pearls for Chemo Girls.
