l've gained and lost 50 pounds 3 times in the past 9 years from medication to control my lupus. I change my style as my body changes.

• I have lupus, and every three to five years, I have a flare-up that means I need steroid infusions.
• The life-saving medication can lead to weight gain. For me, that's usually around 50 pounds.

As the nurse slides the needle into my vein, I wince. I glance up at the bag suspended on the IV stand. The clear liquid inside, a steroid called methylprednisolone, will save my life. But it comes at a cost, and I'm wincing less at the pain than at what I know is to come.

Over the next three months, this medicine will make me gain around 50 pounds. And while I've found a way to deal with the changes I know are in store for my body, I can't say it hasn't been a difficult ride to get to this place.

I have a severe lupus flare-up every 3 to 5 years

Every three to five years, I find myself rushing to my doctor's office for an emergency steroid infusion. The steroids are the only treatment able to stop a life-threatening flare-up of lupus, the chronic illness I live with. In the months after a steroid infusion, I barely recognize myself.

First, my cheeks begin to puff up to cartoonish proportions. Soon, I start to gain weight, particularly in my stomach and upper back. Even though I make sure to eat healthy, balanced meals, I have never been able to avoid gaining weight with the treatments.

After my second severe flare-up, I asked my doctor how often I would get sick enough to warrant the steroid infusions.

"Your disease pattern seems to be every three to five years," she said. That was nine years ago. I've had three flare-ups requiring steroid infusions since then — meaning I've gained, then worked hard to lose, the same 50 pounds three times.

My first doctor didn't believe me when I brought up the weight gain

I was 22 years old when I first gained nearly 20 pounds almost overnight after starting a new medication. After a month of severely restricting my eating in an attempt to curb it, I called my doctor.

"So go on a diet," he said, his tone indicating I shouldn't bore him with a question that had such an obvious answer. I was too shocked by his response to tell him I'd eaten nothing but salad and clear soup for weeks. That I had started walking more and taking the stairs, even when my chronic fatigue made moving feel like wading through sludge. That the hunger pangs I'd once experienced had long since faded to constant dizziness and a headache that never went away.

I redoubled my efforts to lose weight. It wasn't until I passed out at my apartment after not eating all day that I realized what I was doing to myself. I had started taking medication because I was too sick to function. By starving myself, I'd ended up in the same situation.

I got a new perception of my body from an unlikely place

I started eating more frequently and being kinder to myself. I found a new doctor. But my discomfort with the way I looked remained, until a TV show helped me see my body in a new light.

Joan Holloway, a character on the show "Mad Men," strutted the hallways of the ad agency with both enviable confidence and the kind of clothes that flattered her curves. In addition to being an amazing actress, Christina Hendricks showed so many women a new way to see ourselves.

I traded the baggy clothes I'd been wearing for color-blocked dresses, A-line skirts, and jewel-tone blouses. To my surprise, my new retro style suited my more curvy frame.

I change my style as my body changes

As the effects of the steroids wore off and I lost weight, my style changed again. I chopped my hair into a pixie cut and chose more modern clothes, favoring metallics and black. I was learning that it didn't work to see my body as the problem; instead, I could change my style to whatever I felt suited my body at the time.

Anyone looking in my closet would see clothes in various sizes and styles and think several different women live in my house. But it's just me, exploring new looks and playing with drastic style changes. I've learned that ultimately, my body's job isn't to look good for others or even for myself.

My body's job is to carry me through life, and it's doing the best it can. In return, I can choose to celebrate it rather than waiting until it's smaller to style it. When my weight changes, I no longer get upset: I simply find a new look.