Friday, May 13, 2016

Boobs or no boobs, that is the question

If there was a stronger word than hate, I'd be using that word right now. Well, maybe there about detest, abhor, or loathe? No, hate says it best. I hate, hate, hate going to the doctor, but today I had an appointment with my primary care physician so I had to go. Boo! So, I got up early and got a shower. I don't know why I made such an early morning appointment...note to self, don't do that again!

After my shower, I got on the scale. I wanted to see how much I weighed before I actually had to get on the scale at the doctor's office. First, I weighed without clothes and then I weighed with clothes. I was surprised to find a 2 pound difference with my clothes on. Next, I had to decide which shoes to wear. I wanted to wear some lightweight ones. I had two pair from which to choose...Crocs and leather sandals. Before putting them on, I weighed the shoes...yes, I know, a little obsessive but hey, we do whatever we can to keep the numbers on the scale as low as possible, don't we? The Crocs were the winner at just under a pound. I got back on the scale. Hmmm... with my shoes and clothes on I was up almost 3 pounds! Now, the real dilemma - should I wear my boobs or shouldn't I? I wasn't trying to be overly sensitive about my weight, but I knew my lightest weight prostheses weighed over 2 pounds. If I chose to wear my C cups, I'd be adding more than 4 pounds to my current weight. Decisions, decisions...what to do?

The last time I was at the doctor's office, he chided me on my weight. I hadn't gained anything since my last visit but he was encouraging me to try to lose weight. His reasoning was "Excess fat produces excess Estrogen in your body and the excess Estrogen feeds cancer cells." And since my specific type of cancer was fed by both Estrogen and Progesterone, I didn't want to take any chances on my body producing excess Estrogen. Since he'd given me that information, I'd become a little more concerned with watching the numbers on the scale and I'd started restricting my diet. Although I'm not currently presenting any evidence of disease; I haven't been declared cancer free. But for the next few years, all of my medical team will be watching me closely.

I put my scale back in the closet. I'd made a decision. I chose not to wear my prostheses to my appointment. Not only would I weigh less, I would be much cooler. The silicone breast forms warm up quite rapidly against my skin and make me feel uncomfortable. I don't like going sans breasts because I'm very self conscious about my appearance. But doing so would be far easier than trying to explain my dilemma to the medical assistant. I could just imagine her rolling her eyes as she held the clipboard and looked at the scale as I cleared my throat and said, "By the way, you are going to deduct 4 pounds for the weight of my prostheses aren't you?"

Why do we let our weight define us anyway? Is there really a perfect weight? Medical doctors have specific guidelines we're supposed to fall into based on our gender and height, but how many people actually fall into those ranges? In America, where food is plentiful and TVs constantly barrage us with commercials of tempting morsels, aren't we all a little overweight? If not, why do so many people slip off their shoes when it's time to get on the scale at the doctor's office? I rest my case.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

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