Bring sexy back

Everyone likes to be noticed every once in a while. Receiving a second glance from a cute individual, or an appreciative wink and smile makes one feel attractive. I'm not talking about those advances near the end of a boozy night when each drink improves a person's appeal, but an honest to goodness, "there's something about you that starts my engine."

For us married/relationship folks, this validation of attractiveness comes mostly from our partners, although sometimes it's especially nice to know you've still got it by getting a "hey, how you doing" from someone else. But even when in a relationship, it's important to remind your significant other what you find captivating; and the more specific, the better. It's great to hear, "You're gorgeous tonight." But, it's an added bonus to hear, "You've got amazing arms (I can't keep my hands off those toned muscles)" or "I couldn't keep my eyes off your killer legs as you walked across the room" or "I'm so drawn to your beautiful smile" or even "Wow, those lunges are really working because your butt looks fab."

Some people are especially attractive and often get the catcalls and whistles (or the more refined, less construction-site variations), while others of us (me) occasionally get a second glance.

But all that changed when I got cancer. It's probably mostly me, my attitude and my perception, but I lost my sexy.

Of course, when I'm going through treatment, am hairless, covered in acne, swollen from steroids and covered in bruises, I wouldn't expect to feel sexy. In addition, my giant surgical scar and added poundage, only contributes to that low self image.

Yet even when I was in remission, was working out (which always makes me feel better about myself), had great colour and energy, and looked like a normal person, I didn't feel attractive to anyone.

I struggle with this change cancer made in me.

I feel like a friend, a mother, a sister, a daughter, but not an alluring, sexual being. I feel I can't be attractive to others any more because all they can see is the giant, invisible C cancer's painted on me. If a guy looks in my direction, I feels he sees cancer first, which cancels out any va-va-voom factors.

Of course, Michael loves me and says I've still got it for him. But it's hard to accept because I don't believe it myself.

As I recover, I'd like to bring sexy back, but I don't know how. I think it's something I'm going to have to work on with my therapist and in my own head. I don't even know if other cancer patients experience the same thing because I've never seen anything written on the subject. Surely I'm not alone.

While this lack of sensuality matters little in the middle of treatment, it's a delimma for me afterwards. Everyone likes to hear they're alluring and captivating. Everybody wants their own sexy to shine through.

Tina