And so it continues. Only now at my age and stage and no doubt because of all the wonder and all the crap I have experienced thus far in my life’s journey, am I able to let go. Of some of my body issues. Only some. Crap like losing a breast and every single hair on my body. Don’t judge me too harshly when I tell you I was more fearful of losing my hair, than I was of dying. I do know that’s my avoidance strategy again. Focusing on the things I think I can control. And my vanity. I’ve always just taken it all for granted. The worst was the eyebrows and the lashes. Because then you can’t hide from the cancer label. And from people looking at you with pity because they just don’t know how to be with you. But … I was not intending to go on about cancer, but about learning that the size of your breasts, the length of your hair doesn’t change who you are. Or even if you don’t have any. The gift of losing something makes you realise how you still are you without it. Sometimes even a better you. But, as a teenager it all matters so much. I was thinking about this all this morning as Katie needs a new bra. But she refuses to accept that she could possibly be a bigger size. In bra and or in dress. Because then she would be bigger. And in this world, bigger is not better. She will not be liked as much is implied. She will not like herself as much. It is irrelevant how often I explain she is simply growing. She knows that, but irrationally she can’t accept it. I remember this age so well. And no matter what I say, it is what it is in her world. And my experience is too far removed to have any bearing. Yet. I get her. And she will learn, quicker than me. And then she will get me. But still, how do I guide her in a world that is so externally focussed. When even her mother, despite all she’s learnt, is getting eyelash extensions to make her lashes lusher. It’s all gone a bit mad.