Monday, February 21, 2011
A night on the town
A couple nights ago, I had to go to a formal event with Ted. Shopping for an evening gown that doesn't reveal the chicken cutlet that is supposed to take the place of my breast, made the already excruciating experience of shopping all the more fun. Needless to say, I found a decent fit that kept all of my (and lady grace's) secrets. When we got to the event, I was thinking that I was Corrie, but I was soon reminded that I was "the cancer girl". Sympathetic eyes embraced my body, searching for visible remnants of my fight. Voices that should have uttered cheerful greetings instead sullenly told me that I looked ok, despite everything I've been through. Did I get all dressed up just to be broken down by the misguided pity of people so uncomfortable that they were left babbling when confronted by someone who isn't living a static life? Luckily we sat at a table in anonymity with lovely people, who like us, were there to enjoy the evening. They had no idea who I was when we met, which allowed me to be who I am...Corrie.
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I know that feeling quite well too. Each time somebody says "Well you look great, considering...and hats are definitely in style!" Granted, I understand that people certainly mean well, but they don't actually know what to say. It reminds me of the article that Marika Holmgren wrote on the Huffington Post about things that young cancer survivors don't want to hear. Many of those rang true for me as well. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marika-holmgren/in-honor-of-breast-cancer_b_329091.html
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