I don't have to look at my calendar to know it's October. All I have to do is look at the stats and live feed for my blog. I've got an influx of visitors again because it's breast cancer awareness month and with that comes those insanely ridiculous Facebook games that pissed me off 2 years ago and led to the post that made my blog explode. To date over 20,000 have viewed that post. I'm wondering how many of them still went along with the FB thing. And of all the people who went along with the FB games over the years - I'm 14 weeks and craving M & M's, hearts in your profile picture, fruits, bra colour..... I wonder how many of those people took the time to actually educate themselves on breast cancer? Everyone is aware of it. I was aware of it before I had it. But what did I actually know about it? Jack Shit, that's what.
I know a lot now. More than I ever wanted to. And as I survivor I feel like it's in part, my responsibility to help educate others. So, forgive me, if every now and then I drop statistics on you - like the 5 year survival rate for breast cancer victims is 88% but early detection is key. Or that breast cancer doesn't always present as a lump.
I saw this a while ago - ironically on FB - and I thought it was great for visual people like myself. This is the source.
B : Pinching
D: Red & Hot
E: New fluid
H: Growing vein
I: Nipple retraction
K: Orange skin
L: Invisible lump
If you want to share something on Facebook to raise breast cancer awareness....share that!
Anyhow, off my soapbox because that's not why I came here today. I came here to talk about my fat ass.
I quit smoking 10 years ago and since that time I've put on upwards of 40 lbs. In fact, I recall my weight when Mary was 12 weeks old (a mere 10.5 years ago) I weigh 52 lbs more now than I did then. Disgusting. Shameful. And just plain nasty. I don't want to be the fat girl.
I can blame it on quitting smoking. I can blame it on the stress I was under in 'The Year from Hell' aka 2006. I can blame it on the steroids from cancer treatments. Or I can own it. I eat. A lot. Too much. Of all the wrong things.
It's not that I don't know how to portion control. I do. I know what a proper, adult sized portion of any given food is. I just CHOOSE to eat more.
I know that chips, chocolate bars and chicken wings are not part of a healthy diet (though an occasional treat is okay - but occasional is once a month, not twice a week)
I know alcohol wreaks havoc on blood sugar. But I still choose to drink it.
I also know that my chances of having a recurrence of cancer are increased because I am overweight. I also know my chances of a heart attack or stroke are increased. Remember - heart disease and stroke are problems in my family. I know that my chances of developing diabetes are very real.
I also know that my self esteem, while elevating because I once again have two breasts - is still very much in the toilet because I see how I look in pictures (amazingly enough not the same as look in a mirror. How does that happen?)
I joined the gym again today. I'm committed to going EVER OTHER DAY. < -----You see that? I'm committing to you (and myself) EVER OTHER DAY. NO EXCUSES!! (well, recovery from my next surgery is the only excuse I'll allow but as soon as I'm allowed to return to work I'll also be back at the gym)
I'm not going to try any great feats this time. No couch to 5k. No power lifting (not that I ever did that) Just a steady regime of cardio and weight training.
And I'm going to start tracking my food again with my fitness pal app. It will keep me honest and motivated to make better choices.
I don't want to be the fat girl. Plain and simple.