Poofy

You know that phenomenon when you're having a bad hair day, and you call your hair dresser and you make an appointment sometime next week, and the time between the bad hair day and the appointment is filled with fantastic hair days?

Yeah...apparently, the opposite happens when you make an appointment with a lymphedema specialist.

See, I was pushing my surgeon for the OK to weight lift again. I am used to being physically strong...I have been a weightlifter for 17 years, on and off. My arms used to resemble Linda Hamilton's in Terminator 2. I LIKED those arms. I MISS those arms...I no longer HAVE those arms and I want them BACK.
So.....Doc made an appointment with the lymph specialist to see what my risks were and to discuss what I could safely do, nine months post surgery.

And in the last 4 days, I've been experiencing pain in my armpit and breast. And they feel...poofy.
Anyone who knows me, knows that the word "poofy" and I are not BFFs. I don't like poofy hair. I don't like poofy clothes. I don't like poofy colors (um...blog name, hello?).
So What the...Poof?

It hurts, it's not devastating or anything, but it's cranking me because I have YET to find clothing that is flattering and comfortable post surgery...considering the weight gain (fuck you, steroids) and the scar tissue (good Italian skin heals nicely, but it needs time) and now we're gonna add "poofiness" to the mix?

Gee, cancer...thanks SO MUCH!!! I mean, you didn't give me *enough* presents this year!

<sigh>

[Looks in Mirror]

I'm gonna call my hairdresser...I haven't had a good hair day in months...