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I'm a drag queen (in that my tuchus is dragging!)






Dame Edna and I have a lot in common these days. I am a drag queen, because post-chemo my tuchus is dragging but like Dame Edna, I'm owning it! I mean, if I'm going to be one sorry sluggish sloth, I will do it it style. My style, but style nonetheless. I will wear a comfy pair of leggings with a periwinkle t-shirt that reads, "LSE Mum" and a pink hoodie from Wabash College and pink socks that read "Cancer Sucks" - with my absolutely most fab glasses and pink lipgloss. This poster child for chemo is rocking her runway! You'll just have to take my word for it, because there is no way I'm going to post a pic; mostly because it would require a level of energy that is lacking and the pic itself might just shatter the illusion I have that I'm looking great!

I saw a commercial recently for Walgreens whose message was to battle beautifully. Women, all with cancer, are shown getting beauty advice or makeovers. I applaud and am at the same time appalled by that message. I applaud the women who had the energy and desire to go out in the world seeking whatever it takes to make them feel beautiful. It's not an easy thing to do when so much of what is deemed to make women beautiful is often robbed from them as they go through treatment; their hair, including eyelashes and eyebrows: healthy skin becomes dry as do their lips: weight is lost and energy is depleted. 

I applaud all courageous warriors and their efforts to maintain self-esteem, however they choose to do it. But I am appalled that we feel the need, in the midst of the battle for our lives, to check our outward appearances based on societal views of beauty. Myself included. I find myself not wanting to appear as tired as I feel, which then requires, post-chemo, more energy than I have to work on my appearance. When it's much easier the four-days after chemo to just stay home, rest up and rock my runway in comfy clothes.

I am battling this cancer with all that I've got. I may be laying down for a large part of this battle but I'm fighting. And signs are good that this horizontal fight is working because the tumor has shrunk dramatically (I can hardly detect it!). 

I start the next round of chemo in two weeks and it is the 'easier' of the cocktails. Administered weekly for 12 weeks, I will be done in mid-June, with a month to get ready for the main event of 2019 - the wedding of Michael Patrick and Carmen Amanda. 

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It's not a popularity contest, but ...

When an ass is so much more

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B

Peter Pan no more

                          It's time. Peter Pan had to grow up.  For nearly 18 months of his life, Matthew dressed in this costume. In this picture it's new, just out of the box. He picked the costume out of a catalog and when it arrived, two weeks prior to Halloween, he asked daily if today was the day he could finally wear his Peter Pan costume. He didn't like the hat and only wore it on Halloween, but the rest of the costume he wore daily! You read that correctly - DAILY. He wore it to Meijer (for those of you unfamiliar with Meijer, it's a cleaner, friendlier, more 'upscale' version of WalMart), to church, to play dates and preschool ... Heck, he was three and adorable and it worked for him!  (Yes you read that correctly, he even wore it to church on one or two occasions when it seemed arguing with a three year old about not wearing a costume to church was not a battle worth waging. He once mentioned the priests wore dresses . . . I don't think Joh

Cabin fever made me do it!

Like nearly ever person in West Michigan, I have a serious case of cabin fever.  I won't waste your time however, complaining about the two-hundred feet of snow that's fallen in the last two hours. I won't share about the twenty or thirty times I've had to shovel my walk today as gusts blew it right back in my face. And I certainly will not lament about the temperatures that hover around negative double digits making your nostrils freeze together within moments of stepping outside. To bore you with tales of how we have to shovel areas in our yard so that our large dog and can do his 'duty' because the snow is deeper than he is tall and dogs for whatever reason cannot poop in the same place twice, is not what I will share. You will not hear about how when I open the slider to let aforementioned dog outside, gusts of wind blow drifts of snow inside and require a shovel to once again close the door.  Nor will I share how some roads around here are drifted shut be