GD Port

My good friend Shannon is getting married this coming weekend. She’s wearing my veil as her “something borrowed”. We cannot wait to celebrate with her and Ryan. They are such an amazing couple.

So I’ve been pondering what to wear to this wedding. I have my new implants and my old dresses don’t necessarily fit right anymore — so I rented the runway (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, check out

I’m a little worried about the dresses I rented because I’m still a little uneasy in my new body. Who knows if I picked the right sizes. I just can’t gauge what will look good with my new chest anymore (and it sucks that I just majorly indulged on vacation for two weeks and gained 6 pounds. Yup. You read that correctly. SIX POUNDS. Oink. Oink.)

So, I decided to pull a dress from my archives (read: out of our basement storage room) and try it on. It looks pretty good. If the rent the runway dresses don’t work out, I’ll go with my archival dress. BUT the one thing that bothers me beyond words — is the MAJOR scar that’s visible from my old port.

I’m so angry I have such a huge scar for a piece of shit port that I only had for three weeks total (10 days of which I was in the hospital because of the damn thing). Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of scars on my new chest (all my mastectomy/reconstructive scars) — but nobody but Paul and my BAYS sisters have really seen those. It just sucks ass that my port scar is so prominent.

I know, I know, I should feel like a “warrior” because of my scars. But I’ll admit that, right now, I don’t. I feel deformed more than anything.  I know how many other scars there are hiding under my clothes and it makes me sad for myself.  I’ll admit it to you — I *do* feel sad for myself.

But, one must only indulge these feelings for a second because there is so much more to live for.

So, Shannon, Ryan, whatever I might end up wearing to your nuptials — who the F cares. Because we are going to eat, drink, and watch you be married!

Cheers to you fools!

Oh, PS, you best believe I’m sucking in my stomach as if my life depends on it in these pics 🙂 Just being honest with ya’ll…..




That Stings

Today I REALLY miss my long hair. I was driving home on Valencia and noticed that a Blow Out bar is under construction 4 blocks from my house. Damnit all to hell. Ugh. I hate cancer and chemo and my short, ugly stupid hair.

Oh, here’s what else I hate. This is what my RX situation looks like when I go away for 2 and a half days: