a little c

because I refuse to give it a big one

Posts Tagged ‘wigs’

The Bubble Gum Struggle

Posted by wendy on 2012/02/03

I was writing this post earlier this morning, and planning to finish it some time today–but, I’m going to go ahead and hit ‘publish’.  As many of you already know–Komen has ‘amended‘ their policy.  So, you know…victory!  Victory that still has a tinge and a taste of something very, very bitter.  (I said on my friend Carrie’s wall today that I kind of wish Planned Parenthood was in a position to be all “Yeah, we don’t need you.  TTFN!” Sadly, that’s not realistic.  But, it would be really really cool.)  So, Komen hasn’t reversed their decision, but they have amended it.  I think this will bear watching closely over the coming months, because I suspect they will try this again…but in a less public manner the next time.

My favorite part of  the statement released by Komen is below:

It is our hope and we believe it is time for everyone involved to pause, slow down and reflect on how grants can most effectively and directly be administered without controversies that hurt the cause of women.  We urge everyone who has participated in this conversation across the country over the last few days to help us move past this issue.   [Komen]

You know what that translates to?

Please stop being mean to us now.

You know, if there is a demographic of people that you do NOT want to piss off, it is the cancer survivor/fighter demographic.  We have already had enough bullshit rain down on our heads, thankyouverymuch.  If you try to rain more, we will kick you to the curb and we will not be delicate about it.  And, I suspect that many of us will not be won back.  I will never give Komen my trust–or my money–again.  I’ve seen what they’re hiding under their expensive pink skirt, and those knickers are NOT pretty.

Before, I go on, I saw this amazing video today on youtube and you need to go watch it RIGHT NOW before you read another word I’ve written here, because she says something relevant to what I’m about to say.  (Also, it’s brilliant and powerful.)  Go.  Go!  I’ll wait.

Now, grab a tissue and wipe your eyes (because your mascara is running everywhere) and we’ll get back to my blog post.

“Breast cancer is not a pink ribbon.”

This is not Komen pink--this is Wendy Pink.

Maaaan.  There’s my dilemma!  Because Komen co-opted one of my favorite colors, ever.

I like pink.  I have always liked pink. I also like P!nk–but this isn’t about the kind of music I listen to when my Spotify playlist is on private.  (Don’t judge me!!)  But, the thing is–once you’re diagnosed with breast cancer, you are surrounded in pink.  You are swathed in cotton-candy flavored spiderwebs of pink from head to toe.  And, suddenly that cute pink ipod you bought two years ago becomes a symbol of your “fight”.  Which, kind of sucks, because you’re all “dude, I just thought it was pretty.”.  It seems like I am constantly explaining the pink in my life.   Breast cancer has been wrapped up in a pretty, pretty pink bow and now I feel like a walking cliche when I put on my favorite sweater (it’s pink) or the gorgeous charm bracelet that M gave me (pink beads–given before my diagnosis.  Why?  BECAUSE I LIKE PINK!  gah!).  And, now with all the Komen hoopla over the past few days, I’m really feeling the irony.

My scars are pink and they swirl around my chest and under my arms  like angry little ribbons, so okay, maybe a little bit of my pink is cancer-related.  But, that’s the only pink that cancer gave me.  The rest of the pink is here by choice.  And, while I will never purchase a bucket of KFC chicken with a pink Komen ribbon on it, I’m not going to let Komen co-opt my love of cute girly things. It’ll take some finagling, because the amount of pink things that Komen HASN’T slapped their brand on is indeed a small one, but I’m a resourceful girl. And, I’m not giving up my pink wig.  Cause it’s super cute.

Donate:  Breast Cancer Action / Planned Parenthood

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Relief and Gratitude and a House Guest

Posted by wendy on 2011/10/09

I have a mouse.  He is freaking adorable, but he is not allowed to live in my house so the game of Catch or Kill is on.  I prefer “catch”, but if I have to resort to “kill”, I’ll do it, because mice aren’t very good house guests at all.  They use your good towels on their muddy feet, don’t put the little wrappy thing back on the bread, and put empty cartons back in the fridge.  I’m pretty ruthless about empty milk cartons.

I’ve spent the last week in a kind of frenzy of gratitude and excitement and fear.  The fabulous people who particpated in the boobiethon netted me $2,555.  You know,  the ‘thon has taken its fair share of flack over the years, because Komen was the main recipient (and for the boobies)–but, in case anyone ever tries to criticize them because the women who need it don’t benefit–send them to ME.  Send them here:   I am a breast cancer survivor and the Boobie-thon has just paid for the next 4+ months of my COBRA.  I don’t have the proper words to say how much this has meant to me.   I’ve tried thanking everyone who donated to me (I think I thanked a few of you twice–haha) and it feels like it was just this litany of “thank you, I’m overwhelmed, and OH MY GOSH!”.  hahaha.  If I babbled to you, I apologize.  I really was completely overwhelmed.  Thank you Mel for doing such a fantastic job as the organizer, and thank you Statia, for nominating me.  I love you guys so much.   I’d be remiss not to mention that Pete’s image  went up to $350, and my very good friend Jason is also auctioning off a shot for me (it ends Tuesday).  I have such amazing friends.  I really do.

Don't freak out--I was stopped at a red light when I snapped this.

There is a sense of relief that this little bit of attention is kind of over for me now, though.  I have to admit–I felt like HIDING a lot last week.  I have no idea how I suddenly became The Shy Girl, but oh maaan—I just felt so completely undeserving of all of the kindness directed my way.  I couldn’t look at my stats, because I’m so used to the 20 or so people who read this and when there’s suddenly 700 views on your blog…it’s scary to feel so opened up and vulnerable.  I’m not used to it.  🙂  Overwhelmed.

Physically, I’m doing really well.  The hot flashes haven’t gone away completely–but, they have subsided.   I think I had one yesterday.  Hurrah for Effexor!   My hair–much to my chagrin–is very curly.   DO NOT WANT.   Seriously, I actually had a moment yesterday in which I missed my wigs desperately.  I feel terribly ungrateful for disliking my hair, because–helloooo, at least I have hair, right?   WHINGING!  I should stop that.  I’m just super lazy and hate fixing my hair every day.  Seriously I do not get how short hair is easier.  Ponytails are easy.  Massive amounts of hair gel are not.

What a difference a week can make!!!  For reals, people–my biggest complaint about my life right at this second is that I have to fix my hair.  I’m going to stop and just enjoy that for a minute or two.

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He had me at ‘donuts’.

Posted by wendy on 2011/04/17

3 years ago today, a smartass Brit and I exchanged a few cheeky messages about money and donuts.  We didn’t realize at the time, but both of our lives changed that day–in the best possible way.  I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about life lately–being diagnosed with cancer will do that to you (as my fellow cancerchicks well know)–and, if I have learned nothing else about myself, or about us this past year, it’s that there is nothing we cannot face, nothing we cannot do if we are together.  I found someone who looks at me today with the same love and appreciation in his eyes as he did when I had hair to my waist and a very different body than the one I have now.  He has been there for me through tears and despair and he makes me laugh and smile like no one ever has.  The caliber and depth of his core being astounds and humbles me.  My kid loves him, my dogs love him.  I love him.

Oh yeah–he somehow managed to turn me into a big schmoopy, gross GIRL.  I hope all the glitter and unicorns from the above paragraph don’t drive you guys away, cause I DO have actual cancer-related updates.  😉

I’ve had a much harder time of it without the Neulasta shot after chemo.  I’ve been really run down for the past week–although I did get good news on Thursday when I went in for my bloodwork:  my white cell count IS climbing back up on its own, so I should be able to power through the next 2 treatments with no interruption.  I am SO THANKFUL for that, because I was genuinely distressed at the idea of having to schedule my treatments out to 3 weeks apart instead of 2.  I was having all kinds of anxiety dreams about it.  I’ve looked to May 5 as my last day for so long, I don’t want that to change.  So, YAY!

Now for the BOO part of my last week–I’m officially in ‘chemopause’.  Holy crap at the hot flashes!!  I was having them very nearly every hour on the hour for around 4 days, but my onc prescribed Effexor, and it has cooled me down a bit–I only had a few yesterday.  My onc says  they’ll go away once I’m out of chemo, so I guess I’ll just dress in layers for the next 3 weeks, because–oh yeah–the clothes need to COME  OFF when they hit and I don’t want to frighten any random children at the supermarket if one hits me in the produce section.

Since my body has undergone some pretty drastic changes in the past year, I’ve become a thrifting fiend, so I want to share my latest finds.  We have some fantastic places around here:

I love this dress!!

Jonathan Saunders for Target – Buckle Ponte Dress in Eternal Flame (Thrifted – New with tags–$6 – It fits like a DREAM and it’s so completely adorable! I loveloveLOVE this dress!)
Coat – Chaus (Okay–not thrifted–I got it at Dillards for $14–they’re going out of business and I found this on the clearance rack.–it’s got a cute little ruffle feature on the back that I completely forgot to get a shot of. doh.)
Shoes -Bandolino Mary Janes – $2.88
Hair – Well, okay. That’s not thrifted, either. Paula Young dot com – The Jaclyn Smith collection. 😉

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I yam who I yam! Who yam I? Popeye? Oh, hey, he doesn’t have any hair, either! Although, my forearms aren’t nearly as large.

Posted by wendy on 2011/04/09

One word titles are so hard to do.

I had a comment on a shot of me wearing my wig in which the question was asked “Why hide who you are?”.  I had to think about that comment a bit–because I DO choose to wear a wig on the days that I don’t feel like being ‘the bald girl’.   When I’m wearing my bandanna, I am immediately recognizable as a chemo patient–hell, I was approached twice yesterday by people who wanted to know what kind of cancer I had–I am happy to tell them and to talk about my experiences when this happens, but seriously–my life could quickly become The All-Cancer Channel if I allowed it to be.   We call this the “little c” around here, not the big one.  I don’t think wearing a wig ‘hides’ who I am, I actually think I am more me, more Wendy when the wig is on.  I look into a mirror and I see ME again.  Losing your self-identity is so easy to do when little bits and pieces are constantly whittled away by an illness.  My wigs (all of them) have helped me find that ownership of self that is so important to me.

I am not defined by cancer.  Period.  It’s actually a bit insulting to me that anyone would want me to carve out who I am around my illness.  Some days, I wear a wig, some days, I wear a bandanna.   I am learning that I am always me, inside–where it really countsno matter what my outward appearance is to the general public.

Has cancer changed me?  Yes.  Obviously.  You look your mortality in the face and it is bound to change you.  My perspective, my priorities, they have shifted.  But, I refuse to make this the most important thing that has ever happened to me.  I’m not going to allow that.  There are so many other wonderful things in my life that are important.  In fact, I see what IS important so much more clearly now.  This cancer is a blip, an interruption, an unwelcome interloper.  My son is important, my love is important, my family is important.   I’m going to get through this, I’m going to beat it, and I’m going to get back to the things that do define me.

pfft.

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