Mourning the loss of a wardrobe
At breakfast last winter, I confided in a friend that I was preoccupied by my recent surgery due to a diagnosis of cancer. I was sad so I shared that the day before I had cleaned out my closet and discarded the clothes I could no longer wear. Her only response was “Come on, they’re just clothes!” I understand but I felt misunderstood.
I didn’t sort through my clothes because I’ve lost weight or because the clothes are outdated or worn out but because I’m completely undone. Oh, that day, I cried in front of my full-length mirror and in front of my cat who wondered what was going on since his favourite cuddle spot was piled high with clothes.
I was still undergoing chemo treatments so I already felt vulnerable and fragile. So, I shut up (at this breakfast) …something I don’t usually do. Some feelings are just best shared on a blog. Let me tell you how I felt. In my closet, there were my favourite pair of low-rise jeans, there were my favourite pair of low-rise corduroy pants that I used to wear with darling little booties. I can still see the look in my lover’s eyes when he saw me in that outfit.
Self-confidence is a complex thing, but I believe that the clothes I choose reflect my taste and my pleasure to help me feel good and worthy. It’s so important to feel beautiful and confident.
For twelve months I’ve been wearing leggings with long sweaters to camouflage my stoma when what I needed most was to feel pretty and confident. I looked at myself in the mirror, dressed, undressed, discouraged, I tried things on. Ok…a girl in a potato sack, that’s what I felt then. A girl with a hidden body.
This realization jolted me awake. I started wearing flowered dresses, long flowing dresses and alluring undergarments (thank you, ANA!). I started wearing my pre-surgery underwear. I found pants with an elastic waistband that fit exactly across my stoma. I found dresses that make me feel beautiful and confident. I also started wearing stoma bag covers in flowered fabrics. My radio-oncologist even said “That is soooo cute!” A coquette stays a coquette even with a stoma. My low-rise jeans? They’re still in my closet. Maybe I’ll find a new way to wear them again.
At the beginning of my healing journey, I met and extraordinary person of great generosity who wrote to me before my surgery: “This is an adaptation, but it is not insurmountable.” “It’s not insurmountable.” Oh! I repeated the phrase over and over like a mantra…it is not insurmountable. So here I am, writing this article for you to say “It’s not insurmountable!”
There it is! Life goes on.
It goes on in leggings, in a dress, in a bikini just like last summer or very soon now, in pyjamas. Mourning the loss of my old wardrobe can also mean making room for the next thing. Guess what I’m wearing under my dress? My life! And it goes on!
Translated from the original French by Jane Loignon
Brought to you by: Hollister
