Tag Archives: women

An Airbrush for Life….

If you could, would you?

“Of course,” some may reply.

Mmmmm, I’m not so sure.

I was applying my make-up this morning, seriously considering that if I have to use many more primers, plumpers or smoother-outers I’m going to have to start the night before, when the thought of a concealer for life came into my head, then, even better, an airbrush.

My mind quickly started rifling through my memories, selecting those for the eraser of all things bad, the sad stuff and the cock-ups.

But none of our actions happen in isolation. If, along with the bad stuff, some of the high points of your life went too, would you still go ahead?

I know I wouldn’t.

My tough times have taught me about personal strength, the power of forgiveness ( of myself and others), the kindness of strangers and that the love of family and friends is the most important thing in my life.

And as for my high points, I wouldn’t swap one of them for all the air-brushing in Hollywood!!

 

 

 

 

Guilty As Charged…

Of time-wasting on an industrial scale!! I could faff for a living right now, expertly!

I laugh when I think about all those days I was rushing out the door to an appointment or hurrying to finish the washing/ironing before Sunday evening, those days where I promised myself a day of sitting on my bum and reading a great book through from start to finish, or spending an entire day sorting through my clothes, make-up, shoes etc.

Now I have the time…..loads of it, with a limited range of physical jobs I can do, so perfectly suited to my dream days above. So, can I finish a page, be arsed to even open the wardrobe?? Not a mission!!

I can wash two or three cups, swipe at the work tops with some disinfectant, gaze guiltily at the ironing and polish half the coffee table before I think the boredom is going to choke me. Memories of kids on wet, summer afternoons, with their noses pressed against the windows and bedrooms full of toys, moaning loudly, ” I’m bored! There’s nothing to do,” come rushing back and it evokes the same reaction.

“Nothing to do!! Look around you, look at all the things you have to be thankful for! Bored indeed.”

Guilty as charged. ūüėŹ

What’s In A Name??

I believe you can find humour in any area or event in life and my cancer journey has    been no exception.

My husband and I were discussing the surgical procedure with the consultant when he mentions that I will have a dye injected prior to surgery that will colour not just my boob area, but the rest of my body as well, blue for an amount of time.

“Ha,” laughed my husband, “Papa Smurf.”

I shot him a look ( one of those husband/wife looks) as the surgeon continued in a sober fashion.

“Well it will have the effect of making your wife look a bit “corpse-like”.”

I looked back to my husband with a new-found respect. I think I’ll take Papa Smurf on this occasion.

“Corpse-like!!!”

So the day of surgery came. We walked on past the newly built, state of the art building where I will go for chemo and radiotherapy. I glance over at the beautiful bronze statue of Florence Nightingale in front of the door and then up at the building’s name.

“Cancer Unit”, writ large!

Not even a “The.”

Had they run out of funds or was the Minister in charge of naming buildings off that day!

I shudder and walk on. A lovely nurse greeted me and cheerily gave me my programme for the morning.

“Now, you will first go to Mamo and then round to Nuclear.”

Nuclear??

Turns out to be Nuclear Medicine. I think the Naming Minister was off that day too.

About 30 seconds after being deposited in the waiting room another lovely nurse comes to collect me. They must have thought I would run away and they mightn’t have been too far off the mark!

“I have to ask you, for legal reasons, are you pregnant?”

I laugh……heartily. “No.”

Lovely Nurse then gowns up and dons a pair of gloves before injecting this obviously hazardous material into my right tit!!

Because of various taping and markers I am not allowed to get “fully” dressed ( no bra) before me and two-hung-low walk back, through the hospital, to my ward.

Cheery Nurse is bustling about the ward when I get back and I ask her if she finds a sudden increase in the patients need of Valium, post Nuclear visit.

Oh, how she laughs!!

 

 

Being Afraid

I am just thinking back to a much earlier blog where I discussed being your own “best friend” because, right now, I would tell my best friend, my loved one, in my situation, “It’s okay to be afraid.”

I am.

I’m not afraid of dying ( I don’t think that’s my path at this time), but of living with the next bit of the journey; chemo……and the rest.

I cry for a bit, feel crap for a bit,  and then remember my amazing family and friends and how much they believe in me and how blessed I am to have them.

I can choose to lie down under this and let it beat me or face it head on, doing the best I can to follow the guidelines and advice and come out the other side, stronger than before; like thousands and thousands of people are doing every day.

So, I have pulled on my big girl pants I’m back in the ring!!

 

 

We Say No To Revenge Porn…….,

though I just wish a lot more people would say “No” when ¬†this idea is put to them or they come up with it all of their own accord!

I fully understand that some people feel they have no choice for whatever reason and were forced into it, but that still leaves an awful lot of people who seem to think getting naked, taking photographs and then giving access to these pics to their latest nearest and dearest is a good idea. Eh, get the hell over that one please!!

Even if you could trust this person with your life, just how many “celebrities” do you have to witness having their bits and bobs flashed all over the various media platforms to get the message that this is NEVER a safe thing to do. EVER!

It reminds me of the stories of some of the tribes in far-flung continents who were afraid of having their pictures taken, fearing the camera would take their soul and with that their power. Guess what, they were right.

Let anyone have pictures like this of you¬†and they have taken your soul and with it your power. It’s not just a digital image anymore; that’s your future you are giving them.

Think about it.

How come?………..

How come¬†every time you leave the house looking less than perfect, you meet the person you really don’t want to meet;¬†either she¬†who¬†purrs with satisfaction at your apparent demise, or he who scans your appearance quickly with a ” God, that was a close escape” glance??

I know this always happens so “how come” I was so lazy?

Well, maybe,¬†during all the broken dish-washer, laundry loading, floor washing, bed changing, loo cleaning……stuff(!!!!),¬†how I look just didn’t seem that important!!¬†And then I feel that look…ouch. Suddenly you see what they see. They don’t know how bad my week has been, or how clean my house is right now because of all my hard work. No, with one scathing look they make their assessment of your life-coping skills and, from their ivory towers of perfect personal grooming, and their desperate need to find a victim to crow over, they pass their judgement.

The absolute worst is the “Ahh,¬†so how are things with you?”, pseudo-sympathetic arm around your shoulder, just hoping you will collapse into them and confess that your life is falling apart. But all of this says more about the viewer than the viewed.

When I meet my friends looking a similar way I guess their dish-washer has just broken, they have just finished their laundry, washed the floors, changed beds and cleaned the loos. One ( or two) off days does not make you a wreck, a failure, or mean that your life is falling apart.  I am actually happy not to be so self-obsessed as to be unable to leave the house without make-up or my hair just freshly coiffed. How awful to  under that kind of self-inflicted pressure.

But………….it might be a while before I do the naked face thing again. As I waited at the till to pay for my groceries I started¬†chatting to a lovely lady. She¬† was chatting away about her upcoming trip to England. Her face smiled easily and she looked vital and engaged with life. She was happy to tell me her age, 76, and she certainly was a great 76. As we lamented and laughed about the trials of modern day living¬†she asked me (51 years old),

“Do you not find you don’t need as many clothes when you retire?”

Estee Lauder, I love you and will never leave home without you again!!!!!!!!!!!