I have a few key objectives when dressing. They will, I’m sure, be all too familiar to those with a stoma.
First I want to look good. We are very aesthetic oriented creatures.
Secondly I want to feel good. There’s not much point in an outfit if it looks good but feels awful. (The only exception I make for this is shoes because quite honestly with my old crone toes, nothing is terribly comfortable).
Thirdly I need to be sure I have poo room. An additional thought process I never gave much attention to before I was diagnosed with cancer.
No one grows up thinking “gosh I can’t wait to shit in a bag!”.
I’d say very few people think that, not necessarily zero.
But this is where life lead me.
Poo room is a thing. It’s not something I feel is negative or distressing. It’s just something I have to take into account.
I was told, by one of the stoma team just prior to my surgery, that because I have a colostomy I’d poo once a day and that would be it.
Well, the problem is, nobody told my stoma that.
So as it turns out, it doesn’t live by a rule book. It’s a maverick, I am pooing 24/7. All day, all night.
More so at certain times, for example if I’m chewing - I’m pooing!
Therefore if I’m going out and eating is involved, I have to factor in room in an outfit for that to happen.
And if I’m going out and food is not involved I probably won’t be interested in going to start with! Hahaha
I want to dress well, not only because I enjoy it, but also because I want to prove a point. To me, to others, to the world. Having a stoma doesn’t mean the end of a happy existence. It’s the beginning of a beautiful new one!
Also, something in my brain before surgery stuck in there. I had concerns I might smell at times.
(I was very under prepared for stoma life, I had about 10 weeks notice, through chemo and radiotherapy. I didn’t have a clue about colostomies. I didn’t know anyone with one).
I fretted a lot about whether I would smell or not. I couldn’t stop thinking about it to be honest. it became a fixation.
So my brain decided that if I was going to smell, then dressing well could be my cape of invisibility.
Hear me out;
You’re standing in a queue at the Post Office, Bank, supermarket (at this point what the queue is for is largely irrelevant), anyway you’re in a random queue and then there’s a terrible smell.
Are you going to automatically think it’s the lady dolled up to the nines?
I think not. (Unless it’s only a queue of two, and you know the smell isn’t coming from you).
No, the last person to be eyed with suspicion is the lady who looks like she’s all fine and fancy.
So, hello, fine and fancy, non smelly lady here! Hi! :)
Okay, I hyper focused on the smelling aspect, which as it turns out, isn’t a big part of my life. Very very rarely do I have a bag leak. Very rarely.
Terribly distressing though it is, it’s mercifully rare.
I want to look good too. I’ve always wanted that. Pre bagged and now. I enjoy making outfits work. I enjoy putting them together.
It’s not vital to my existence though. Some days I go out looking like a sack of crap, not just wearing one.
But they are few and far between because I get pleasure from dressing well.
Voila! A sack of crap day! I did laugh when I caught sight of myself in a mirror. Imagine bumping into me like this.
“You? you write a style blog??” Hahaha
Top from Gap, Jacket from Moncler, Joggers from Ralph Lauren, Shoes from Yeezy.
As the great Dolly Parton once said of herself. “It takes a lot of money to look this cheap”. We meant different things by it, but it still works.
Mostly though I put thought and effort in. And feel good about myself because of that effort. The clothes maketh the man, or as in this case - the woman.
I’m in a good position that firstly clothes are something I enjoy. I have many friends who absolutely hate clothes shopping, and also Chris let’s me buy a plentiful supply. Yes, I said let’s me. We’re very old fashioned in this house, Chris is the bread winner and I, well, I let him. Hahaha
I love dressing the best I can. It’s important to me for my self esteem and mental health.
You look good, you feel good. Simple as that. And when I don’t fancy dressing up, I allow myself that too.
Do more of what makes you happy. If tracksuit and baggy jumper does that, then yay! Do that. If a power suit and pearls does that, then also yay! You do you. xx
I might be odd for many reasons, my friends will attest to this. But one reason I find myself perplexing is I became more body confident AFTER my stoma surgery. What’s that about!?!
Well, for one my worth and value no longer came from my physicality. It comes from deep inside. It comes from relief and shock that I survived what came to kill me. The cheek of it!! That dirty little bastard cancer tried to stop me in my tracks.
I no longer believed that my attractiveness was or is about what I looked like on the outside.
But it came from the fact that I am hard as nails as it turns out. I had no desire to find out how strong I was. I’m not one to push myself to any unfathomable limits. I don’t get the fun of challenges, you are very unlikely to find me applying for SAS who dares wins. I was contacted by a researcher for that show asking if I’d be interested. You could’ve probably heard me cackle in response from there! I’m a plodder, or I was, until I needed to be superhuman.
When I was young and slim I felt embarrassed that my body wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t enough.
And now I’m old and …what’s the polite term for it?…meatier?…curvier?…whatever you choose to call it, I’m far more confident and comfortable in my skin. I’m at peace with it and my God it feels good!!
I’ve been on 18 flights so far this year, which means I have been on 9 holidays. I have bikinied from Bulgaria to New York, from Corfu to Iceland.
My body, my choice. I’m 100% behind that statement.
Some little gutter rats slated me on Instagram a while back, for, in their opinion, not having a good enough body to wear a bikini on holiday. And one said I should cover my bag up on the beach.
Finding the words for my response to both those people was fairly easy - “go **** yourself”.
I don’t care what anyone else does. And I’d like the same in return. Simple as that.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I got the best body in the world. But it is the best one I’ve got, which is all that matters.
You simply don’t need to have the best body in the world to appreciate it’s worth.
Know it’s keeping all your organs safe and allowing you to be here, that’s enough. You are plenty enough. xx
Our guests from Ukraine needed to get some autumn wardrobe staples. They came here in June and entered into our ludicrous heat wave from the moment they arrived.
We needed to find a shopping centre with a Primark, and I needed a Zara to take some dresses back that looked unfortunate when I tried them on at home. God loves a trier though. ;)
We settled on Cambridge because London, our preferred shopping destination, was jam packed with protests and marathon prep.
We took Olya and Danil to a stately home on the way. Chris and I love Angelsey Abbey. We only discovered it on the 29th December last year. But it really spoke to us. So much so I’ve bought vintage Christmas decorations from EBay to recreate their Christmas display. The Christmas of the 70s.
Though their’s are circa 1950 and 60s. The decorations are much the same as the 70s.
Jumper from River Island, Jeggings from Tesco, Shoes and bag from Tods
Olya very much enjoyed the tour of the house, and Danil very much enjoyed running round the grounds. Everyone’s a winner. :)
Then from there we headed to Cambridge itself. I forgot how much I enjoy it. It’s such a beautiful city.
Olya stocked up on warm coats for her and Danil, we had a spot lunch, and took a brief tour of the city.
Such a beautiful city. I have yet to go punting on the river here. I must get round to it.
We had a lovely day. It’s nice to have been able to give Olya a trip out, to see something other than Braintree, which I can imagine is somewhat underwhelming.
We had a big lunch out at a lovely Italian restaurant. So I bought some cheese from the market in Cambridge for a snacky supper.
Cheese, biscuits, alcohol free beer, and honey for the stinky cheeses (it really helps tone it down), a perfect evening in front of the telly.
Sunday I scaped. Not escaped. Just scaped. I find it really very relaxing. I have no hobbies. Never felt the need, never been creative or sporty.
I’m not even sure table scaping is still a hobby for me…I have two purpose built sheds to house it all, so I think at this point it’s classed as an obsession or mania. :)
Still, it keeps me happy. And autumn is absolutely perfect scaping season.
We then decided to go to the cinema…yes!! I know!! For someone that claims to dislike it so much I sure do go a lot.
I tactically cinema! I go on the website and choose the film based on the number of seats that have been booked.
Sunday afternoon’s showing had 12 people including us. An acceptable number.
If they come too close it gets a bit hair raising though. :)
We went to see Mrs. Harris goes to Paris.
It’s such a sweet little film. No, it’s not a Friday night blockbuster. But it’s a perfect Sunday watch.
A delightful story of a war widow, cleaning lady from Battersea in 1957, falling in love with and saving up for, and then boldly going to Christian Dior in Avenue Montaigne to buy a dress. A £500 dress!! In 1957!!
Not sure about exact equivalence, but maybe it’d be like spending sixty thousand pounds in there now and taking it in cash, rolled up in your handbag.
It was such a gentle film, I did have a bit of a blub. Very much recommend for a tender-hearted watch. I totally got where she was coming from. I haven’t ever spent 10.5k on a dress (but I would if I could). ;)
Chris did take me to Christian Dior in Avenue Montaigne once, and surprised me with a bag. Every time I look at that bag I get a warm and fuzzy feeling. :)
Dress from Michael Kors, Cardigan from Tesco, Boots from Ralph Lauren.
The sun was shining, but you can feel autumn in the air now. I love autumn. Definitely time for cosy knits and darker evenings, lamp light, all snuggled up under a blanket on the settee…mind you, this year that’s more necessity than desire.
Chris had a meeting in London last night so I tagged along, not for the meeting, Christ no, I merely stowed away for a stay at the hotel.
He went off to the black tie event, and I went off to another part of town to meet Ben for dinner.
I chose Madhus Mayfair because it’s utterly divine, both in decor and food.
Plus they just won best Indian restaurant in west London at the curry Oscars.
I love Chutney Mary. But I also love all the Madhus restaurants. They are incredible.
Dress from Zara, Tights from wolford, Shoes from Christian Dior, Bag from Jimmy Choo
I’m either incredibly short, or Ben had taken this at a really dodgy angle. :)
The food is exceptional. Ben can be a bit of a fussy eater but even he ate things he’s never tried before.
The decor is opulent and classy. It’s just a really lovely place to go.
We ate so much that moving after was tricky.
I posted a photo of my outfit on Instagram, I had such a lot of messages saying how lovely I looked. So thank you very much to my friends for that, most kind and much appreciated.
The dress is lovely. It wasn’t even expensive too. But I think, if I do in fact look good, it’s down to the testosterone. Honestly, it’s been life changing. 5 stars! Would recommend!
I hope you are well. Stay safe. See you next week. X