I have found that an unexpected side effect of learning to cope with Lynch and my life post-menopause was learning to love my body; perceived faults and all. Maybe it’s a sign of maturity/aging, but I’m loving the skin I’m in. Don’t get me wrong, there are days when I still weep because I’m not the societal ideal, nothing fits right and I feel like the ugliest person in the world (inside and out). Those days are fewer and fewer between though and I also am much kinder with myself for having those days.