Donna Farizan Shares Freezing Her Eggs Improved Her Body Image

When I chose to freeze my eggs — something that took me two years to mull over and decide — I sought out the consult of women my age who had already done the same. A frequent warning I got was about a common physical side effect of the process: “Covering the bloat” was something I was repeatedly told I’d have to deal with. So naturally, when my timeline was set in stone, I put together a wardrobe for work and play that I hoped would do the trick. 

But then, once I was in the thick of the process, something surprising happened. I realized that I didn’t care how I looked. At all. 

Let me back up to one of my earliest memories — it’s relevant, I promise. It was August 1994, my third birthday party, and my parents graciously gifted me the presence of my favorite movie stars: Aladdin and Jasmine. I used to watch “Aladdin” every day, sometimes multiple times a day, so I’ve been told. I loved the fairy-tale aspect, and I idolized Jasmine — maybe because I hadn’t seen Middle Eastern beauty represented anywhere else.

When actors dressed as Aladdin and Jasmine showed up at our house, I froze. I remember thinking, “I can’t believe these people are in my home, and they’re here for me!” I could barely smile or speak — I just kept staring at them in awe, starstruck. After singing a couple of songs in front of my friends and me, it was time for cake (probably my favorite part). My mom set out the cake along with crudité and other bites for the parents, and while I was thinking, “I can’t wait to eat that cake,” I heard Jasmine behind me squeal in excitement. She must have been as eager for cake as I was! We have something in common, I thought excitedly. Then she said, “Ooh, cucumbers!” 

That moment has been ingrained in my psyche since I heard those two words. I remember thinking that if I want to look and be like Jasmine, well then I, too, need to prioritize the cucumbers over the cake.

And yes, I was only 3 years old, but we all have a first memory we can’t forget. 

My brain was wired around food and body image from a young age, hitting its peak distress in my late teens and early 20s. My insecurities around my body took up so much room in my brain. 

As an adult, I’ve done a lot of work to feel more comfortable in my body, and to stop being so hard on myself — but that seed of negativity never fully went away. I’m the type of person who asks to avoid seeing the number on the scale when I get weighed at doctor’s appointments, and if I accidentally see the number, mental havoc rules my week. I’m also the type of person to have an intense HIIT workout routine for both physical upkeep and mental release. So, I’ll be honest — when the time was approaching for my egg freezing cycle to begin, I was anxious about not what my body would feel, but how I would feel about how it looked.

What I never expected though was to completely embrace my body — mentally, physically and emotionally — throughout egg freezing, despite the fact that, yes, I was bloated and also had to limit physical activity. For two weeks I injected myself with hormones 2-3 times a day, combining the solutions on my own, feeling quick bouts of injection pain and periods of fatigue, and traveling to doctor’s appointments constantly. After each shot, ultrasound or blood draw, I’d await my body’s reaction. Would I feel run down? Stressed? Anxious about any expansion around my stomach? I waited, but that’s not what happened. I mostly felt … strong. I was surprised and delighted by what my body was capable of. The strength I felt made me feel immensely grateful for my body and what it could endure. I felt empowered. The experience also, frankly, made me angry at myself for all the times I criticized my body’s appearance in the past, and all the time and energy I wasted on that way of thinking.