A diary of the over trousered…

Another week older, another week wiser…well, you’d think so maybe, but not for me.

An unwise combination of too many trousers, not enough water intake and probably a tad too much fibre and I was stuck. Really really stuck.

My life since having a colostomy has been me playing cat and mouse with constipation.

Which is the entire other end of the spectrum of my friends with ilesostomies.

A comfortable, consistent middle ground would be dreamy. But life is what it is.

There’re things I can do to try and avoid it, but once it starts it’s really tricky to get through it, literally.

…so desperate was I this time I was thinking of taking a sachet of Moviprep that I have spare.

The only thing that stopped me was the thought that Moviprep and a blocked bowel probably wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact I’d place that in the very bad idea category.

So I’ve just tried to manage with water, over ripe kiwi fruit, and Fybogel tablets.

And less trousers. Far less trousers.

I think I just got a bit carried away with how easy and comfortable it was to wear them.

But I know full well, that if I wear trousers for a prolonged period then I get backed up and blocked up.

I know this. And I disregarded it because I was enjoying myself.

I have a stoma, I have limitations, but I just don’t think like that. I barely give my stoma any thought or consideration at all day to day.

It’s only when I sit down to write about it that I reflect and register it.

Which I imagine seems utterly impossible. I obviously see it twice a day at the very least when I am naked in the morning and evening. I walk past a mirror and there it is, but it’s not a conscious thought. I see it, I know it, it’s just there. It doesn’t provoke any kind of emotion.

I’m neither sad, nor happy about it. I have just fully accepted it. Like wearing glasses. It just is what it is.

Full and total acceptance and peace.

Which even to me when I think about it is wild.

When I think of the terror pre op me had. The trauma, the distress.

I was a wreck. I thought if indeed they could save my life it would be over. A half life. Never venturing out from the shadows. Keeping to myself. In short I expected to have self imposed agoraphobia.

Well, life has a funny way of surprising you doesn’t it.

Not only is everything opposite to what I expected. It’s a step on from that. I live this incredible life. It’s amazing.

In fairness, I’d say 95% of that is down to Chris. And the rest is all me, all 5% of it.

When I was first diagnosed and told I’d need a permanent colostomy, I nearly threw up. I was so distressed.

I said to Chris “how will you be able to love me, physically, emotionally and in the biblical sense?!”

And his response was immediate;

“I will always love everything about you, besides, I wouldn’t care if you were just a head in a jar, as long as I could still be with you”

And that is what you want, and need to hear at a time of great change and sadness. You need to hear that you are accepted for what you are. Rather than what you look like.

Plus as it turns out, a stoma bag hasn’t affected my cracking rack, and he’s always been a boobs man. :)

Hahahahaha

Should I rely on the validation of others to feel confident in my skin? No, probably not, but it’s been 50 glorious years of seeking outside validation, so I doubt that will change any time soon.

But because Chris builds me up, I kind of got into the habit of believing in me too. He’s been raising me up for the last 30 years.

I am who I am because of him, and vice versa. And that’s exactly what a marriage should be.

"I would recognise you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognise you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. And I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion".

~ From Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner (which also happens to be our 28th wedding anniversary) I feel so grateful to have met this wonderful man, who led me to be in a position to pass on positivity to others going through stoma surgery.

I can’t help anyone feel positive about themselves physically, or for that matter emotionally, but I can show that having a stoma is no obstacle to looking good and dressing well.

And hopefully from there, I hope people gain some inner peace and calm

“See yourself through the eyes of those who love you. They see all of the goodness in you when you fail to see it.

They see the best in you when you see the worst. They are always ready to lift you up even before you fall down. They see every reason why you deserve happiness, love, and joy when you may feel that you're the furthest thing from deserving all of that goodness”.

~ Najwa Zebian,

No matter the budget, from Primark to Piana, and everything in between, I love it all.

Styling clothes for comfort and confidence is possible (if you so choose).

I was going to my B12 appointment at the doctors, so I needed warmth (it was freezing here last week) and easy access to my arm.

Vest and Leggings from Tesco, Cardigan from Ralph Lauren.

The trouser day number 2

Top from Whistles, Leggings from Next.

Going for the hatrick…

Chris came home from work Thursday night, while I was getting stuff out the fridge to start cooking and he said “come on, get your coat on, let’s go”

…not one to refuse the possibility of not having to cook, I grabbed my coat and jumped in the car.

He drove us into London, which took nearly two hours to get there because of heavy traffic, and parked in Harrods carpark, for dinner and live music in the Dining Hall.

Coat from Boss, Jumper from Holland Cooper, Leggings from Tesco, Shoes from Ugg, Bag from Goyard, Cap from Aime Leon Dore

If you’re wondering why the cap? Well, I didn’t expect my husband to come home from a long day at work and suggest a night on the town, and I hadn’t washed my hair. But I certainly wasn’t going to let that stop me getting out of cooking dinner. :)

This, or my own cooking?…

Every single time!

So by now we’re on day 3 of trousering, dangerous territory indeed…

I had arranged to meet an old friend from school, whom I have reconnected with in recent years.

I had companionship at school, I was friendly with my peers, but not besties, not an alpha girl, no gang to call my own.

I was in fact a somewhat awkward, insecure, with very low self esteem, and a lot of undetected learning issues as it turns out.

Probably as odd as I am now, but whereas now I see it all as my superpowers, back then I felt like a fish out of water, and a completely lost cause academically.

Look at me now huh!! :)

Anyway, alls well that ends well, I write a blog that has been read over two hundred thousand times, (my mum does have to correct my grammar and spelling on here, but it’s no bother, thanks to her fondness for grammar and spellings, so thank you mum), I have an incredible family, and a collection of some of the best people I have ever had the privilege to meet.

Again, expectation vs reality.

Didn’t expect life to be much - But it’s fucking awesome! :)

Anyway, I arranged to meet Jameson in the cafe at M&S, a great spot to meet up as I could catch up with him, and then go shopping after. Win win.

We had such a good time, well, I did, I can’t speak for him. We then said our goodbyes, I bought some new jumpers for skiing not skiing, and a pair of jeans I wasn’t quite sure about because they are baggy, and I’ve been used to tight ones for so long.

But I tried them on and I thought they were worth a try.

Top from M&S, Coated Jeans from Holland Cooper, Boots from Russell and Bromley.

I got in the car to come home, and there was a woman in a car blocking the way I wanted to reverse out of the space, so I went against my gut instinct, I ended up going against the flow of the traffic in the car park, which then caused a man to shake his fist at me, and clearly was screaming blue murder at me about my heinous crime.

I panicked and managed to drive out the wrong way of the carpark, over one of those spiky grid things!!!

Not quite a police stinger, but near enough. You know the ones I mean, those aggressive prongs. They freak me out going the right way over them, so you can imagine my distress at going the wrong way. The spike side up way. Arrrgghhh.

I was freaking out all the way home. In tears by the time I got back here. I wasn’t going to tell Chris, but he was working from home.

I explained what happened, and he said “oh well, you didn’t do it on purpose, so forgive yourself and get over it”. It’s at times like this I thank the universe I didn’t marry any other person.

He is the best.

The tyres are all fine as it turns out. But now I’m scared to go to that shopping centre. Hahaha. So I guess some good has come out of it. ;)

The jeans in question…

Tip from Ralph Lauren, Jeans from M&S, Boots from Christian Dior, Bag from Goyard.

I am very short, I am five feet three and three quarters, yes, the 3/4 is important.

I usually buy petit length trousers, or short leg. But I tried the short of these on (they are meant to be cropped) but I just didn’t like the look. So I tried on the regular length ones and I really really liked the look of them. Or so I thought, I wasn’t totally convinced until I got home and showed Chris and he said that he loved them on me.

So here we are. They don’t look how they are supposed to, and all I can think is, who cares, I’m my own stylist and I can wear whatever I want, however I want.

They are the Harper cigarette jeans from M&S.

We headed for dinner at my one and only childhood best friend’s house on Saturday night (we didn’t go to senior school together fyi).

He cooked a fabulous curry, my favourite curry as it happens. And we had a catch up with him and his girlfriend.

It was such a great evening. I do think I’m very lucky.

I also do think I over trousered for the week too, so come Sunday I decided to give myself a fighting chance to get my blocked bowels unblocked and wear a dress.

I’d been doing some cleaning and pottering, Chris was in his office working. He then comes in and says “do you fancy going into London?” And as I always do, we did.