I didn't even realize a month had passed.
I've been gone, I know. I've been buried under a mountain of worry and doctor appointments and preparations and, somewhere in there, celebrations of my 28th birthday.
I've mentioned here I have a number of health issues, one of which is a thyroid condition called Graves' Disease. And after dealing with it for two years, the time has at last come I must deal with it definitively.
This week, my Shout! Omaha column is about where I am, what's coming and--in the end--why I haven't been compelled to update OSRTS:
Shop Talk, April 21, 2010
Since I became a style columnist, I’ve dispensed a lot of advice on “body image.” For every word I’ve written on the irrelevance of size and shape, I’ve handed out two more in real life to women worried about the way they look. I’ve made it my personal mission to prove style is all about the way you walk around, the way you carry yourself—not a designer label, or a curve of a thigh, or a gap between teeth.
I believe that. I really do.
But lately, I’ve been having trouble believing it for myself.
I will fully disclose I’ve always been thin—it’s just the way I was built. And sure, I have everyday complaints: My feet are too small, my hips are curvier than I’d like, my skin is perpetually dry, my hair isn’t very shiny.
None of these things ever mattered in the grander scheme.
Two years ago, I noticed my eyelids looked a little uneven. I thought one—which has been droopy since I was a kid—was just out of whack. It turned out to be an early sign of Graves’ Disease, an autoimmune disease that causes the thyroid to become enlarged and overactive. Because the thyroid controls the speed of body processes, I've been running fast: I have a racing heart, heightened anxiety, an intolerance to heat, bulging eyes and a bevy of other symptoms. I rejected the most common solution—radioactive iodine, which essentially kills the thyroid—for an alternative, natural treatment.
A year later, it isn’t working.
At the end of this week, I’ll be 28. The day after, I’ll start taking a high dose of antithyroid medication in preparation for a thyroidectomy, or the removal of my thyroid. Doctors hope I’ll be ready for the procedure in a month. Afterward, I’ll have a scar above my collarbone, thyroid hormone replacement medicine, and, in all likelihood, a slower metabolism that will result in a different number on the size tags inside my jeans.
I’m afraid. And angry. And all the things anyone would be.
See, I have that same silly idea of what I should be, what I should look like, why that matters so much. And while the idea of replacing my wardrobe isn’t entirely unappealing—I mean, really, the possibilities there—it is entirely unsettling. Our body images are affected by those unrealistic outside expectations, but they’re also crafted on our inner visions of who we are and who we want to be.
I don’t know exactly who I’ll be in six weeks. Yes, I will be the same girl into fashion and Belle & Sebastian and Wallace Stevens and dinner at M’s Pub. But what she’ll look like? What her healthy body will be? I don’t have a tidy answer today.
I’ll let you know.
In the meantime, if you see me, remind me I’m here, and will be, and that—the way I carry that—is the thing that really matters.
*
OSRTS is, in part, a lot about what I look like. And because right now I see sickness and a big question mark underneath it, I haven't quite wanted to look at all of it. So I haven't posted.
But this weekend, I am determined to do so. I have a couple of outfits to post, and I have some other musings, so I'll start working on them. For the next little while, I appreciate your patience, your kindness and your continued support of OSRTS. The blog and I aren't going anywhere--we're just a little under-the-weather.
I am, however, working on being hopeful.
I've been gone, I know. I've been buried under a mountain of worry and doctor appointments and preparations and, somewhere in there, celebrations of my 28th birthday.
I've mentioned here I have a number of health issues, one of which is a thyroid condition called Graves' Disease. And after dealing with it for two years, the time has at last come I must deal with it definitively.
This week, my Shout! Omaha column is about where I am, what's coming and--in the end--why I haven't been compelled to update OSRTS:
Shop Talk, April 21, 2010
Since I became a style columnist, I’ve dispensed a lot of advice on “body image.” For every word I’ve written on the irrelevance of size and shape, I’ve handed out two more in real life to women worried about the way they look. I’ve made it my personal mission to prove style is all about the way you walk around, the way you carry yourself—not a designer label, or a curve of a thigh, or a gap between teeth.
I believe that. I really do.
But lately, I’ve been having trouble believing it for myself.
I will fully disclose I’ve always been thin—it’s just the way I was built. And sure, I have everyday complaints: My feet are too small, my hips are curvier than I’d like, my skin is perpetually dry, my hair isn’t very shiny.
None of these things ever mattered in the grander scheme.
Two years ago, I noticed my eyelids looked a little uneven. I thought one—which has been droopy since I was a kid—was just out of whack. It turned out to be an early sign of Graves’ Disease, an autoimmune disease that causes the thyroid to become enlarged and overactive. Because the thyroid controls the speed of body processes, I've been running fast: I have a racing heart, heightened anxiety, an intolerance to heat, bulging eyes and a bevy of other symptoms. I rejected the most common solution—radioactive iodine, which essentially kills the thyroid—for an alternative, natural treatment.
A year later, it isn’t working.
At the end of this week, I’ll be 28. The day after, I’ll start taking a high dose of antithyroid medication in preparation for a thyroidectomy, or the removal of my thyroid. Doctors hope I’ll be ready for the procedure in a month. Afterward, I’ll have a scar above my collarbone, thyroid hormone replacement medicine, and, in all likelihood, a slower metabolism that will result in a different number on the size tags inside my jeans.
I’m afraid. And angry. And all the things anyone would be.
See, I have that same silly idea of what I should be, what I should look like, why that matters so much. And while the idea of replacing my wardrobe isn’t entirely unappealing—I mean, really, the possibilities there—it is entirely unsettling. Our body images are affected by those unrealistic outside expectations, but they’re also crafted on our inner visions of who we are and who we want to be.
I don’t know exactly who I’ll be in six weeks. Yes, I will be the same girl into fashion and Belle & Sebastian and Wallace Stevens and dinner at M’s Pub. But what she’ll look like? What her healthy body will be? I don’t have a tidy answer today.
I’ll let you know.
In the meantime, if you see me, remind me I’m here, and will be, and that—the way I carry that—is the thing that really matters.
*
OSRTS is, in part, a lot about what I look like. And because right now I see sickness and a big question mark underneath it, I haven't quite wanted to look at all of it. So I haven't posted.
But this weekend, I am determined to do so. I have a couple of outfits to post, and I have some other musings, so I'll start working on them. For the next little while, I appreciate your patience, your kindness and your continued support of OSRTS. The blog and I aren't going anywhere--we're just a little under-the-weather.
I am, however, working on being hopeful.
6 comments:
love ur blog
visit&follow
fuckthatfashionart.blogspot.com
kisses
terrifying.
hope it all goes well. <3
:) i love you!
I think I met you once at a show due to my thinking your dress was cute. From there, I somehow ran across your blog and have been following it for a few months I think.
What you're going through sounds incredibly difficult. I clearly don't know you, but keep your head up and keep doin what you do. Don't let this keep you from knowing you're beautiful!
X Rah
Thanks so, so much, everyone--truly.
vv, I'd love to follow you. luna, thanks for the little heart. Lainey, I love you, too, so much. And Rah, thank you for reminding me I *am* beautiful--you are, too. Link to you on the right.
This has made me so, so sad. I have body image issues myself, I feel fat compared to my friends and I'm always trying to make myself into the "perfect" me... But this is something else entirely. I'm sorry to hear that the natural treatment hasn't worked - what is it you tried? I'm so anxious because this is close to my heart, my family have had awful experiences with doctors and every time we went they made the illness worse than it began. Then, we began healthy eating, my dad started fasting to get rid of toxins, it helped save me from an operation and cured my sister of asthma. I know it's hard because you've already agreed to the treatment, but I think you mustn't just give up the fight...there is always another way! Feel free to e-mail me and I can give you more in-depth information, it's a lengthy process but trust me, it's better than losing a vital part of your body for ever!
xxxxx
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