![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/coffeejitters.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/swing.png?resize=1024%2C576\")
<\/figure>\n\n\n\nThe real punch to the gut came a few years later when I was getting my little girl ready for a bath and she casually asked me how old she will be when they cut off her nipples. No tears, no fear, just matter-of-fact assumption that somewhere along the line, her breasts get hacked off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt like my body betrayed me<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Cancer didn’t just take my health, it also made off with my breasts, hair, femininity, strength, and a good deal of my confidence. I felt like my body betrayed me. And now, in this hypothetical but not unlikely scenario, my daughter’s body would someday betray her as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I helped her into the tub and watched her pretend to be a mermaid. Her movements are fluid and unfettered by notions of shame or inadequacy. Her future is wide open – she can be and do anything, but at this early age, my life is her template.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I knew, sitting there on that bathroom floor, that I needed to wrap my head around this cancer and my body image before my issues became her issues. But first, I had to answer this big question from the little girl in the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Not everyone gets cancer,” I told her. “I hope you don’t, but you might. It will be 34 years before you are the age I was when I got cancer, and that’s lots of time for someone to invent a cure or even a way to prevent it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the time I finished those three sentences, the tub was full of toys and Poseidon was mediating a battle between a narwhal and a walrus. She had moved on and wasn’t listening, but I was stuck in my head trying to define what a healthy body image means, how to make that a reality in my life, how to convey that to my daughter, and how cancer complicates everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/coffeejitters.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/01\/churning-water.png?resize=1000%2C200\")
<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\nMy body image issues started long before cancer.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
At seventeen I was touring Washington D.C. with a group of 200 high school students from around the country. As we walked through the Mall, I overheard two of the other students discussing my appearance. “Judy’s legs are so ugly,” one of the guys said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Give her a break, she just got out of the hospital,” the other replied. (No, my health issues did not start with cancer.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A small part of my brain acknowledged that the second student had jumped to my defense. Thank you, by the way. A much larger part of my brain registered that HE DID NOT DISAGREE<\/strong>\u00a0with the first student’s assessment of my legs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the court of high school social politics, the issue of the ugliness of my legs was raised, and swiftly seconded. That was all I needed. The verdict stuck with me, and I kept my legs covered with tights or long pants for nearly two decades. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Even today, in my mid-forties, each time I leave the house in shorts or a skirt without tights, it is an act of courage that requires a deep breath before stepping through the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I can’t remember their names. I would not be able to pick them out from a police lineup. I have not seen those boys (men, now) since 1987, and I bear them no ill will. Why do they have so much impact over the way I prepare to leave the house most sunny summer mornings?<\/p>\n\n\n\n It’s not even about them. It’s about me, and my willingness to cling to the derogatory comments and ignore the many more flattering comments I’ve received over the years. A large part of this is about me devaluing my own needs and comfort, and assuming that I owe the world something that I don’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After my first mastectomy, I agonized each time before going to the gym. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Sweat made the prosthetic breast slip around, and even fall out of my clothes. Yeah, that was embarrassing. I could stuff my bra with socks and they’d stay a little better, but as I pumped my arms on the treadmill, they’d pile up in the middle of my chest, making me look more Picasso than if I’d just shown up single-breasted. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It was all so inconvenient and awkward, and I contemplated not returning to the gym.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Is it offensive to the other people if I show up with one breast? <\/p>\n\n\n\n I struggled with this question. I lost sleep over it. I imagined people who’d had arms or limbs amputated; I wouldn’t expect them to wear a prosthesis if they didn’t want to. Why did I apply a different standard to myself with an amputated breast? And then, I worked up the courage and took a deep breath before stepping through the door single-breasted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nobody noticed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I noticed a motivational poster hanging in the gym showing a woman drenched in sweat with the words, “If you look good working out, you’re doing it wrong.<\/strong><\/em>” Ha! Despite the fact that I know women who do kick ass while looking amazing, there is a great deal of truth to that poster. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Why had I not seen that before?<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don’t need a perfect body to have a healthy body image.<\/strong> My thoughts on body image are evolving, even as I write this. I am learning to accept and embrace both my vulnerability and my resilience – both integral parts of what it means to be alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don’t lecture my little girl on these issues, although we talk about them as they come up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I hope that she will see that ideas can evolve as people learn and grow just as our bodies do – that is also part of what it means to be alive. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Mostly, I put on shorts or a skirt with bare legs and go out side to play with her when it’s sunny. Sometimes, I even go through the door without noticing, and I’m out in the sun before I realize that I didn’t have to stop and brave up first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Body image is a critical issue when raising young girls. When mom’s body image is complicated by cancer, things get interesting.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9967,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1053],"tags":[640,276,300,610,1051,353,876,348,677,833,1272],"class_list":["post-8379","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-parenting-with-cancer","tag-best-of-coffeejitters","tag-body-image","tag-cancer","tag-courage","tag-emotional-skills","tag-not-just-surviving-but-thriving","tag-parenting","tag-parenting-with-cancer","tag-raising-strong-girls","tag-survivors-raising-children","tag-your-kids-emotional-needs","et-has-post-format-content","et_post_format-et-post-format-standard"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/coffeejitters.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/05\/cancer-complicates-body-image-and-parenting.png?fit=1600%2C900","blog_post_layout_featured_media_urls":{"thumbnail":["https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/coffeejitters.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/05\/cancer-complicates-body-image-and-parenting.png?resize=150%2C150",150,150,true],"full":["https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/coffeejitters.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/05\/cancer-complicates-body-image-and-parenting.png?fit=1600%2C900",1600,900,false]},"categories_names":{"1053":{"name":"Parenting 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<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\nWhy do they have so much impact?<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
To what extent am I obliged to present myself as a double breasted woman? <\/h2>\n\n\n\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/coffeejitters.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/coffee-3.png?resize=1000%2C200\")
<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\nMotivational posters<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/coffeejitters.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/paint.png?resize=1000%2C200\")
<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\nMy body is a work in progress. <\/h2>\n\n\n\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/coffeejitters.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/12\/best-wishes-judy.png?resize=640%2C244\")
<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/coffeejitters.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/cancer-body-image-parenting.png?resize=683%2C1024\")
<\/figure><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"