Cancer is an Asshole Whose Ass I Shall Kick

It’s been almost six months since my hair first fell out.  I must admit after reading some horror stories on the internet about women who were still bald or “patchy” even a year later, I was like, shit what if it that’s me?  But, even my little Bobby Hill bald patches are filling in nicely.  Sometimes googling health stuff is a bad idea.

blogpicIMG_4908

I’m going to see my hair dresser about my grayness in about a month.  I get lots of compliments about the gray, “oh but its a pretty gray!”  And “it’s so classy!” Nope.  No offense to all the silver foxes out there, but I’m not ready for the silver fox club.  I am going to keep it short though, just the thought of having to bust out all my styling tools in the morning gives me the heebies.Now that chemo and radiation is over I have to say that mentally it is a tough place to be.  During chemo/rads I was in battle mode, kicking ass and taking names.  Even though I’m still fighting it by taking the Tamoxifen, I don’t have that “fuck you asshole cancer!” battle cry mind set.  Now I feel kind of like a sitting duck.  Someone told me it’s similar to PTSD which totally makes sense.  I need to keep that eye of the tiger thing going and kick cancer’s ass.  Also I’m starting to feel more self-conscious about my booblessness (which auto spell check tried to change to “boobless mess” which I guess works too.)  My marching orders to myself are to stay focused and positive, and eat healthy and exercise since during this holiday season I’ve been sucking down candy, cake, brownies and bowls of ice cream like the world is ending. #ChristmasFatty. 

Plus I need to be in tip top shape for when Dr. Boob Whisperer is ready to get going on my new rack.

 

Advertisements