December 15th, 2012

Despite what some may consider my shortcomings, I have always felt content with the hand I’ve been dealt. When I look in the mirror on a good day, I see a confident, sexy woman. Yet in spite of this, when the occasional zit would appear overnight, it meant creative maneuvering depending on the spot; I would either carry on a conversation in profile, if the culprit was center stage, or hide altogether from any romantic endeavors. Back in the day, my insecurities would make me question whether I could keep a suitor interested when I was pleasantly plump from the winter hibernation, or my complexion was lacking that ‘J Lo glow.’ What has now become apparent is that the image I had of myself was singular, and had nothing to do with the unforgiving reality that life sometimes bestows on us.

I met my husband through mutual friends. It was a whirlwind, and that old cliché of knowing when you found ‘the one’ was true in our love story. The weekends we shared together became a passionate exploration of our bodies – to the annoyance I’m sure, of the people in the apartment next door. It was the first time where I felt that I could really let my guard down sexually and emotionally. Okay, so I did get up a few times earlier than he did to strategically place bronzer on my face and to try to wrestle with my wild, unruly hair. Hair, that even on a good day looks like a bird’s nest when I wake up. He caught me slipping out of bed one morning and wrapped me in his arms and told me I looked beautiful as I was. The jig was up, no more secret primping, yeah he was the one.

Our foundation and perspective about life, love, family and marriage were in sync. I went quickly from the stage of boasting to my girlfriends about my adventures with my boyfriend, to not sharing too many intimate tidbits. Our relationship had become more significant, and the code of conduct suggests you can’t openly discuss your sexual escapades over brunch if it’s a serious relationship – which is a shame because I had some really acrobatic and creative stories to share – Haagen Dazs and chocolate often made guest appearances.

Three years ago in the spring we got married and the passion remained solid, despite the transitions that we were experiencing in merging our kids, me moving out of the city and into the suburbs and the everyday chores. I however, had never felt more joyous, fit. Then the sky fell in – in the fall of that same year I was diagnosed with breast cancer and went through surgery, intensive radiation, chemotherapy and hormone treatment. However, this is not a story about cancer, ultimately my diagnosis was the landscape for my self-discovery and the awakening of our profound sexual intimacy and my self acceptance.

Fast forward a few months after my diagnosis and I was bald, tired all the time, filled with anxiety, and the steroids made me very swollen. I never looked worse. I felt like my body had betrayed me by having this vile thing growing inside me. I definitely didn’t feel sexy or sexual. Spending our first wedding anniversary in the hospital getting chemo is not an aphrodisiac, trust me.

But a conversation that my husband had with his doctor regarding the healing and relaxing benefits of sex (I might just be gullible and he made the whole thing up), encouraged us to have a discussion about sustaining our sex life through this time when my body would be pushed to the limit. The theory was that sexual activity would provide it a sense of relief, pleasure and joy. The idea that I would want to make love during this crucial time seemed for lack of a better word, frivolous. It made sense in concept but my mind was cluttered with so much confusion and fear I couldn’t imagine how I would succumb to any form of arousal, let alone feel sensual or come across as seductive to my husband! But could it be that when we feel our worst, we get the most benefits of stripping down and simply enjoying our bodies?

Well, my husband was determined to light the flame and I was glad he did. Oddly enough, the trauma I was feeling going through treatment had made my body more susceptible to achieving incredible pleasure, and for those very precious moments it was the only time I felt like me. One thing that I’m confident of, is maintaining an active sex life during those times helped me heal.

As I originally headed into treatment my thoughts included: I’m no longer sexy; I’m no longer beautiful,and I’m now an ugly science experiment. How will my husband react? Little did I know that despite the obvious physical trauma of going through chemo, what would immerse in the process was a clear look at what made me, ME. No longer hiding behind my wild curly mane, makeup and a sexy array of attire, I greeted myself in the rawest state which brought incredible insight to the core of my being. Dare I say I liked what I saw, not in the mirror, but in my heart and my soul. I was strong, I was courageous, and I wasn’t sexually dormant. In fact as things progressed, I was often the one who initiated our sexual encounters, which gave me back a sense of empowerment. The focus became pure physical pleasure, joy and an intense connection with my husband. An escape from pain and the reality of the situation, it made me forget. I was bald, fat, but strangely I had never felt more damn beautiful.

Could it be that my hair, manicured nails and fashionable outfits wasn’t what made me attractive? I must admit, I almost felt annoyed at times when my husband would look at me during my treatment the same way he did when I physically thought I was on my ‘A’ game. How could he possibly look at me with desire? I realized then that what he saw in me was more profound than what I saw in myself. And so the self discovery began.

As the treatment continued and I got back into the semblance of my routine and meeting up with my friends for coffee and gossip, I remember listening guiltily as they described how their relationships were becoming stale, due to kids, stress about money, jobs, etc. and how sex or even intimacy…a simple kiss for crying out loud! – had become alien to them, while here I was in the midst of chemo, making passionate love several times a week. Dare I tell them? But then I thought if I could be experiencing this much pleasure with all that is going on with my challenges, perhaps sharing my experiences could be a catalyst to help them to transcend their challenges. And so I did. The idea that I could feel sexy, beautiful and seductive at this point in time left my friends awe-struck and me genuinely aware that I was on the right track.

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