For some time now, my betrothed and I have been discussing 'fattening up for chemo'. I am officially at least a size 12 on my bottom half (size 16 in some quarters) and every time I see anyone I know 'Oh you look so well' code word 'You've put on weight'. A couple of weeks ago close friends directly asked if I was pregnant.
I've started taking one sugar in my tea (as opposed to half and trying to cut down). I've started drinking the government limit in alcohol - 14 units a week and I'm not taking much exercise. We're still eating like Kings - in fact better. I don't have any cold food whatsoever which is just how I like it. I know Gillian Mckeith would have something to say about that.
I tried on my mate's wedding dress a few days ago - whose brother used to nickname her 'Miss Piggy' and it was too small for me.
But I remember blaglady saying a few years ago that one puts on a dress size every decade so even without [non] intentional fattening up, I'm fine.
My paranoia about everything has completely dissipated too - I got a leaflet from Fulham about the risk factors for breast cancer. Basically nobody knows what causes it (just as I was told on day 1) and there's conflicting information about every risk - so you may as well relax and enjoy yourself. I'm not forcing myself to drink brocolli and sprout juice every 5 minutes, or cutting out dairy, or worrying about water or anything at all. I'm back on full strength deodorant, underwired bras, moderate drinking, wonderful food, you name it, I'm at it.