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I gave my husband a new handy dandy techno-fab phone for his birthday
last week he is quite enamored with. He was playing with the
camera last night and took some pictures of me. Well when I saw them I
started crying! I look simply awful. My face is as round as a basketball, puffy with the pallor and texture of unbaked pastry dough. My limp yellow hair just blends into the illusion, providing no
contrast or definition whatsoever. I have enough bags packed and ready to go under my eyes for an ample trip around the globe. And my chin? Oh how I wish it stopped at double! Folks are so reassuring, promising me this is just what Prednisone
does. They say it’s water weight, chipmunk cheeks, you look fine, don’t
worry. But I am worried! Horrified, embarrassed and really mad too. I
have only gained back the 10 lbs. I lost in the hospital at the end of
July but my face looks like it did when I was 30 lbs. heavier on Lyrica. I can blame some of
this on steroids but have to take responsibility for my part as
well. I have been eating. A lot. My portions are big. I eat for pure
enjoyment without a thought to calorie or consequence and I am practically visiting the frozen yogurt shop daily. Oh yes, I am a full and willing contributor to this rapidly expanding problem, pun very much intended. 

I am a vain girl. It’s in my blood, I can’t help it. My darling 94 year old grandmother still puts on makeup everyday if that tells you anything. Ten years selling beauty in a tube left its imprint on me, too. So for me it’s vitally important to feel confident in my appearance and I ain’t apologizing for it, either. But with an illness as tricky as Fibromyalgia this resolve frequently works against me. How many times have invisible illness patients heard the phrase, “But you look so good I just can’t believe you are sick!” and wanted to smack the purveyor of such careless insensitivity? I have, more than a few times. I believe this is one of the reasons
Fibromyalgia is so dismissed. For the most part we just don’t look sick. Eventually this disease takes its toll
on the outside, though. Patients can enter deep levels of sleep deprivation,
fall victim to the side-effects of prescription drugs, lose the ability to
exercise or slip on a permanent frown-meets-grimace as time and illness wear on. It was
easy for me to stop caring about what reflected back in the mirror when life became about surviving and enduring. It seemed ridiculous to spend effort and energy to primp and fluff myself up when there simply was no energy to spare. And what a waste to slather on makeup or coif my hair just to sit at home alone
and feel miserable!

But think about a time, before
you got sick, when you came down with the good old fashioned healthy person
flu. After a couple of days of miserable bed sweats and delirious dreams
the fever would break and you would drag your sorry ass into the shower. That action
alone made you feel better, marked your arrival on the doorstep of recovery. Basically you started doing things to make yourself get well again and eventually you did. Last night was a
big wake-up call for me. I believe if I want to be sick then I can live looking sick, but
if I want to improve I must project that desire on the outside of my body, too. So I may have a
face as round as the moon but damn it if I don’t have a little blush
and eyeliner on to balance out the puffiness. I may be bloated and
hurting and have not one bit of energy to spare but garsh darn it, I
am putting on jeans instead of sweats and brushing my hair! I am
determined to look in the mirror and see a person that still, despite
all the hardship, cares who is looking back at her.

Thanks for joining,

Leah

This blog was originally published on 9/22/10. As I re-post it today I am sitting in my sweats with no makeup on but can happily say I did brush my hair!

2012-08-04 04:45:32

Source: http://chroniclesoffibro.blogspot.com/2012/08/i-have-let-myself-go.html