I've started doing yoga again. It's the slow, meditative type that allows me to "yawn my body open." I hope it helps with the osteoarthritis in my hips, but even if it doesn't, it's the first step to regaining my physical fitness regimen. Slowly but surely, I start again.
This week, Carson Kressley's show, "How to Look Good Naked" featured a woman who had been unable to feel attractive because of extensive medically-created scars on her body. I thought about watching it, even watched the first five minutes of it, but ultimately I decided to move on. Makeup, a new haircut, a new wardrobe--none of that is going to fix my own scar issues. Everyone tells me that no one would ever know, by looking at me, that I had breast cancer. People even tell me that I'm pretty.
My only thought is, "That's because you haven't seen me naked." I'm working hard to accept my scars, if not love them. Some days are better than others. I accept that they're there. I know that having them is preferable to being dead. I even know with absolute certainty that my husband still finds me attractive.
Someday maybe I will. All the time, not just intermittently.
