I Want Her Job

Skirts and Scuffs: NASCAR In Heels: Track Chic: What stands out in this picture...Ingrid's shoes! Credit: Debbie Ross/Skirts and Scuffs Two weekends ago Skirts and Scuffs resident phot...

GOAL!

I got by with a lot of help from my friends!!!

Wooo hoooo awesome swag gym bag on its way to me and many many thank you's to get out to others. 

Wow, I am soooooo blown away. And I don't want to stop. Keep it coming... please... don't let my reaching my fundraising goal keep you from donating... just click here. Every single dollar is appreciated, used, reused, and you've probably lost more than that in the laundry. Just sayin'...

Hello, My Name is Chemobrain!

Nippleless should be recognized by spell-check.  I don't want a hyphen. I want a descriptor.

Just sayin'.

I've been trying to think of a new word for "survivor" in regard to having had breast cancer. Something that underscores early detection (as the miracle discovery of  2 different types of cancer in 7 tumors total was a result of my very first mammogram at 39 (blah blah blah...)

then there was my first double mastectomy (really owie boo boos and lots of decorative gauze... I could've won Project Runway with my tenderly placed adhesive strips),

and my bi-weekly drip trips to the chemo cafe... and of course, my new inflatable boobs...

and early menopause (my 40th birthday present was the not having to ever have a period again) - oh, and for the record, going through chemo and menopause at the same time, in the winter, will have you bald and naked in the snow in the front yard. Making snow angels. I call it ChemoPause.

Then there was the secret delight of losing hair in places I really didn't mind losing it.

I could start peppering my speech with lines like "Was your chemo cocktail that deep fuchsia hue of a Rubellite Tourmaline, too?" and "Wasn't it great to not have to shave you legs for 4 months?" and see what kind of responses I get.

Oh, and "Did you earn that pink ribbon or did it come from Oriental Trading?"

I can't just walk around topless and let the wounds speak for themselves, and you can't really SEE chemobrain... but I am part of some "new normal" group.

I just don't know what to have printed on the name tag.

Can I legally have my name changed to Chemo Brain?

Goodbye Yellow Brick Podunk Road...

I love the Ithaca DMV. The ladies there make a mildly profound administrative task such a pleasure. My driver's license expired on my 46th birthday last week and I waited, of course, until the last possible minute to get it renewed. So I took the gorgeous Finger Lakes afternoon off work, having practiced my next ID smile in the mirror all day, cursing having a birthday in March. March birthdays suck when it comes to photo ID's. I'm never tan. Anymore. And I'm always wearing a scarf.

Strangely, while I was excited to not have to look at the current horrible, little picture of  pre-diagnosed, sick, skinny Stephanie with the stupid black hair and zit-from-nowhere anymore - it's amazing how much can happen in eight years - was officially changing my address. Having left our old house on Podunk Road only three years ago, my driver's license still reads Podunk Road.  I love that. So at the Ithaca DMV, on my 46th birthday, I waved one last good-bye to Podunk Road. My new official identification card will read Arden Road. But can I still be the Podunk Princess?

From Park to Arden...? Meh. Arden doesn't even mean anything, but it sounds pretty. It's often a name of a person or a place. The only Arden I ever knew was the sister of our creepy landlord in back in New Paltz. She was nice, though. So is Arden Road.

In a few weeks I will see my new driver's license and say hello to a post-cancer, salt and pepper (read: gray), short-haired, funkily bifocaled, dangerously make-up-free, middle-aged woman with a HUGE GRIN and Springy PEEEENK scarf..

And a little lip gloss. Like a true Podunk Princess!