As we sat at lunch at a local restaurant (courtesy of gift cards from a friend) I looked at the young women waiting on the patrons around us. Not a single one of them was anything less than a size 16/18. Most of them wore their t-shirts snug and their jeans slung low on their wide hips. Someone else may have looked at them and objected to the fact that they displayed their curves so proudly, but not me.

I watched as they wiggled and squirmed their way between crowded tables and too tight walkways with trays heavy with food. None of them tugged or pulled at their clothing once their trays were empty. They smiled and it reached their eyes. They walked with a purpose and with a femininity that left me absolutely in awe.

When had I lost those abilities?

At one point I was brave enough to venture out in a two-piece swimsuit and lunge lazily by a pool in a crowded apartment complex. I tossed my hair and batted my eyelashes. I didn’t hesitate to smile and show the world that I was a chubby girl that had a lot going for her. I wore my work outfit of snug khakis and a v-neck shirt proudly, taking care to adjust my breasts so that they were displayed at the best angle. I celebrated my curves!

Where is it exactly that it all fell by the wayside?

I don’t know the answer. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment or instance. I only know that as I watched the absolutely beautiful young women be beautiful young women, I wanted to tell them to hang on to the moments of self-awareness and comfort in their own skin that youth afforded them.

So, on the way out I told them that they were gorgeous. I then told them to keep on smiling and showing their curves in their cute outfits. With a wink and a smile I said “You wear it well!”

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I’m feeling absolutely dreadful. I have no energy and my head feels as if it’s going to explode. My heart is heavy and my mind is weighed down by things that don’t belong here.

However, I know enough to know that there are incredibly special people in my life. People that not so long ago were strangers are now friends. Amazing individuals that have taken the time to comment or email and send words of encouragement my way.

I just wanted to take time out from real life off-line and say thank you. Thank you for the love and thank you for the prayers.

And Catalina, my sweet soul sister, a double thanks to you for working so hard.

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The first time I logged in over at MyHopeSpace, I noticed the front page featured a link titled Cancer Is A Bitch. I clicked on the link and knew, right then and there, that I had to read the book. I navigated my way to Gail’s site and searched until I found her contact information.

The email that follows is the actual pathetic begging that was done-

Hi Gail

I’m currently in the middle of cancer treatments for a brain tumor. In addition to that, I also blog like a fiend, write like there is no tomorrow, and thrive on reviews. I just read about your book and really, I’d love to review it on my blog. I’m sure you get hundreds of requests for things like this every day, but I’d like to read it and review it to get the word out to the people who visit my site.

If this is at all possible, please let me know. Thanks for your time and the best to you and yours.

Imagine my surprise when I received an email back almost immediately. It wasn’t a form email or a computer generated reply, but an actual response from Gail herself! In it she wrote words of encouragement and offered to send me a pdf if I was interested.

So I received the pdf and began to read. And I began to cry. Not silent tears that no one could have noticed, but sobs that shook my entire body. This was a woman who knew how I felt and she was writing about it! Immediately I emailed her and told her that her words had moved me. (I know this because I have the emails in my inbox still.)

Gail wrote, with such eloquence, all the things I’d been feeling.

But Cancer didn’t hear me, didn’t see me cry. It was
busy moving in, crushing my sternum, throttling my
throat, sucker punching my gut, bullying me into
submission.
…
How had I not appreciated my health all those years
I didn’t have a diagnosis following me everywhere like
an annoying sibling, mimicking my every move, mirroring
the parts of me that make me feel awkward,
ashamed? My diagnosis, a brat, demanding center stage,
forcing me to fill my calendar with appointments
where I’m weighed and blood pressured and poked and
probed, felt up and down and warned about my risk.
I want to be brave. I want to be big. I want to be gracious
and cool. I want to be the Audrey Hepburn of
cancer.
…
But I’m not like Heather. For one thing, I’m not tall.
Or bony. And cancer doesn’t feel sexy on me. It feels
ugly, cankerous, mean, and old. It reminds me that I’ll
never be twenty again, that time has moved faster and
less kindly than I expected.And I’m not wearing it well.
I can’t figure out how to hold my face anymore, what to
do with these weary eyes afraid to stare back at me, this
I’m “It” mouth that doesn’t know how to smile anymore when
smiling feels so foreign, so strange. Why do, how do
people, how did I ever smile? when all I can think is
cancer cancer cancer cancer.

She fought the battle and won. She did it with dignity and grace. Gail is an example of how exceptional real women can be when faced with the worst news of their lives.

Please, but the book. Read it. Then pass it along to someone you know. Because Gail is right you know. Cancer is a bitch.

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If you are, don’t hesitate to GO HERE. Take the time to read, donate, and experience warm fuzzies. Tell them that The Butterfly Temptress sent you.

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