There is a blog I follow that is exerts from a book written by a guy who had cancer. Each post is from a different chapter in the book and includes pictures from that time. It starts with his diagnosis and as of the newest chapter I just finished reading he is in round 2 of chemo and basically living in hell.
Along with the text he includes pictures from the time he is writing about. So the post I just read is written about Christmas eve and day and has a picture of him by the Christmas tree. He is gaunt, he has lost a third of his body weight by this time, he is a skeleton (his description). It can be hard to tell what his body looks like because he is always wearing 4 layers of clothes due to always being cold but you can see the changes in his face,
This most recent picture, I guess because of the lighting, he still looks super thin, underweight, an all that, but the dark circles under his eyes aren’t as apparent and he doesn’t look sick, just really thin.
And I realized, as I stared at that picture, that I was a bit jealous that he was that thin.
I also wondered if he, as someone who is now healthy, ever looks back at these pictures and longs for the days he was that thin.
That my friends is some messed up thinking.
I highly doubt he looks at those pictures and sees anything beyond how sick he was, how sick he looked, they probably bring back to him how crappy he felt, the hell he was living through, things like that.
But do I think that?
Nope. Not me. Not messed up me. I think how sad I would be if I was him, looking at those pictures, missing how skinny he was.
I have some pictures like that, where they really show how skinny I was, and I love and hate those pictures. I love them because they show me being skinny, they show that I was once able to get skinny and give me hope I can get there again. I hate those pictures because they taunt me, they make me scared I’ll never be that skinny again, they make me mad that I was skinny and screwed it up and got fat. It is so hard to get back there, and those pictures remind me of how far away from that I am.
Me looking at pictures from when I was skinny and longing to look like that again, to me that isn’t messed up.
Me looking at pictures of a man sick with cancer who is in the midst of chemo treatments and wondering if he misses being that skinny because I am jealous of how underweight he was, that is crazy messed up.