Body image after breast cancer: The Weight of the Situation

The following is my article, "The Weight of the Situation", which was published in Wildfire Magazine's

Body issue (June/July 2025).

Cover of June/July Body issue of Wildfire magazine

My body image problems started well after my breast cancer treatments ended. The side effects of my cancer treatments meant nothing to me. The loss of a breast didn’t really bother me. You could say that I wasn’t attached to it. My hair loss during chemo didn’t bother me, because I got more compliments on my wig than I have ever received about my actual hair.

The only thing that bothered me was when my hair was growing back in. I had my husband take a picture of me so that I could show off to my friends that I had a hairline again. Unfortunately, they didn’t see the stubble and notice the hairline. They thought I was reminding them that I had lost all my hair. They sent their sympathies when I was looking for congratulations, cheers, and an acknowledgement of this milestone.

Not even my husband understood what the picture represented. After I shared it in an email, he deleted the one and only picture of me that was taken during my cancer journey. He assumed that I wouldn’t want to keep a picture like that; my proud hairline picture. I guess it’s a case of people not being fully able to appreciate something until they have been through it.

During my cancer journey, I was told I was brave, strong, and an inspiration. I got compliments on my wig. I was able to go to work regularly and appear “normal.” I maintained my sense of humor. I laughed and the people around me laughed. Although it wasn’t the best of times, it was a special occasion of sorts, and it deserved to be captured in at least one photo. I was okay with being photographed. At this point, I was okay with my body image. And then things changed. I gained weight.

I didn’t have a problem with overeating while I was undergoing treatment. In fact, I lost about 20 pounds, and none of it was because of nausea or vomiting. I just decided that I would take better care of myself so that I could handle the toxicity of chemotherapy. The biggest change I made was cutting sugar from my diet. I went outside more. I attended my kids’ soccer games. I sat outside on the deck in the summer.

And, while I didn’t work out, I walked a lot, even though it was inside. Once I got to work, I had to walk between meeting rooms, up and down stairs, to and from the cafeteria, as well as to the car at the end of the day. The office was large, so I got a lot of steps in. Now, I struggle to get even close to 2,000 steps in one day. I work in my basement, so my only walk is down one flight of stairs. I rarely go outside,

and social engagements are much less frequent than when I had cancer.

A selfie of my grandchild and me

Now, hair intact and a fake boob in place, I have body image problems. I avoid having my picture taken because of my weight gain. Instead, I take most of the pictures at family functions, because I like photography and because it means that I won’t be in the pictures. When I know I am going to be in a picture, I try to have something in front of me. Now, with a grandson, I find that it’s a win-win situation. I get to spend time with him, and I can hold him in front of my stomach for pictures so that my weight is less obvious.

I try to use humor to deal with my anxiety about my weight. I joke that I’m not fat; I’m just spacious. On Facebook, I share any cartoons I see that are about being overweight. I truly do like the one that says I’m not overweight, I’m just on the wrong planet. A short trip to the moon and I would be considered malnourished. Based on my current weight on earth, I would be less than 50 pounds on the moon.

Currently, I fear chairs with arms. Waiting to see the dentist or doctor can be embarrassing if the distance between the arms is just narrow enough to allow me to get my bottom into the chair but more of a challenge to get out of it. Fortunately, when I stand up, the arms of the chair only hang onto my hips for a moment. No one seems to notice, but me.

My weight gain has affected my health and my quality of life. I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes and

rheumatoid arthritis on the same day. My knees and balance are not what they used to be, so there are certain activities I can’t do. I make sure I take my phone with me everywhere I go, so that I can call someone if I need help. To help hide some of my embarrassment, I joke that I am a very good “before”

picture in weight-loss commercials.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not TV worthy. I don’t weigh 600 pounds, but the emotional turmoil is there. I wonder what people think when they see me. Actually, I don’t really want to know. I’m likely harder on myself than they could possibly be. And so, away from prying eyes, I continue my cycle of emotional eating. I know I’m not alone in my feelings, but still, I feel alone.

I also experience survivors’ guilt. A good friend died last year from breast cancer that had spread to her brain. Before that, she was active. She ate well. She did everything she could to keep her cancer from returning, and yet it did. I feel like she, of all people, deserved to live. I also feel like it is a demonstration of how you can do everything right and things can still go very wrong.

And so, I am hoping that by telling my story, I can help someone else and, indirectly, help myself. I want to make a commitment to a group of strangers, who are not truly strangers, because they have had similar experiences. I have shown in the past that I can do this. I just have to take the first step and then keep going until I gain some momentum. I want to get to the point where making healthy choices feels

more natural than unhealthy choices.

While I have not achieved success at this point, I am developing a plan of action. Instead of looking at the big picture, I plan to set small daily goals that will allow me to feel productive and better about myself. Hopefully, feeling better about myself will have a big impact on achieving weight loss and a better body image. I want to be able to sit in an armchair with confidence.

#wildfiremagazine #WeAreWildfire

Overview of the current issue

Until the next publication of the magazine in August, you can see overview of the June/July Body issue, which provides personal insights about breast cancer and the impact to body image. Go here to see the current issue of the magazine.

Purchase Wildfire magazine

If you want to see more, here's where you can purchase the complete copy of the magazine. You can do that via subscription or single issue purchase (print or digital download): wildfirecommunity.org/shop.  

This is no ordinary magazine. The Body issue has 135 full-color pages (4.25” x 5.5”) on premium paper with 26 contributors. Each contributor was diagnosed with breast cancer before they turned 50. I was 49.