Sweet, Sweet Vanity

I always knew I had narcissistic tendencies. I like a mirror, providing the reflection is just of my head and shoulders, the lighting is complementary and my body is tilted just enough to show a little bit of collarbone or would do if I was naked. I like photographs too, providing it is just of my head and shoulders, the lighting is complementary and my body is tilted just enough to show a little bit of collarbone or would do if I was naked. My Myeloma has made me realise just how self loving I am, when I am not worrying about death, the majority of my concerns are about losing my identity, the things I like about me. My appearance is the main issue. I am not deluded, I do not have a great deal to work with, I look too much like Haemo Dad to be a beauty, but I work with what I have and most the time, I can pull it off, even with the stomach. Lipstick helps. Lipstick will have to be my saviour when I am bald with a prickly beard.

These thoughts must have been going through my mind for a few weeks, because I was just going through my camera roll and I have come across several photographs of myself pouting. Perhaps I wanted evidence of my hair and colour before they disappear with strong chemotherapy. Perhaps I was planning to make a collage for my Mum. Perhaps I just wanted to look at myself.

Think I am exaggerating? Think again…

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Secretly angry

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Seductive work mode

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Bad hair for a large person

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Come to me please

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Thin hair. Thin hair. Thin hair. Pale lips.

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Animal. Wild animal.

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Wearing an animal.

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Lipstick error. Not through snogging.

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Steroid face. Bloated steroid face.

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Farmer’s wife

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Shiny Instagram

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I’m not really sure what is happening here.

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Somebody is tired, and maybe a little bit nauseous, oh and constipated. I just love chemotherapy.

I wonder what it all means…

I am so sorry that you had to see this, but I thought it was only fair that you see what I put up with.