A Humorous Look at the Bright Side of Cancer...
And There Is One

It’s Hard to Be A Woman

June 29, 2020

It’s Hard To Be A Woman #15

June 29, 2020

One perk of gaining fifteen pounds back (from the injury-induced halt to almost all exercising) is…ahem…well, I can actually wear this (oversized) shirt again, the very one I had shoved into the dark recesses of my closet, vowing to never touch again. Oops.

I guess you gotta look on the bright side.

By |June 2020|It's Hard to Be A Woman|

June 24, 2020

It’s Hard To Be A Woman #14

At the hairdresser during COVID

Getting my hair done finally since the COVID started….June 24, 2020

Best friend: “I know that you are going to the hairdresser today for the first time during this COVID business. Send me a picture.”

Me: “Be careful what you wish for.”

By |June 2020|It's Hard to Be A Woman|

June 24, 2020

It’s Hard To Be A Woman #13

Getting my hair done finally during the COVID mess…June 24, 2020

It’s amazing what spending an exorbitant amount of money—I mean, getting your hair done after three months of…well…looking like crap—does for the soul.

It’s the little things, people; it’s the little things.

By |June 2020|It's Hard to Be A Woman|

February 5, 2014

It’s Hard To Be A Woman #12

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January 3, 2014 – Photo by Amber Guidry of Serenity Salon & Spa

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January 3, 2014 — Photo by Amber Guidry of Serenity Salon & Spa

After going to the gynecologist to make sure I wasn’t getting some new type of cancer to deal with and seeing the naturopath to fix my little thyroid problem a month ago, it was time to focus on my hair.

Because of #1 on my bucket list, I got the brilliant idea back in September to stop having my hair done professionally. Not only did I start dyeing it myself, I also cut it. I was so proud of myself.

Five months went by which meant I saved approximately $500. Outrageous, I know, but before you judge me, I do not go to gyms, I do not spend money on pedicures, I hardly ever go out to eat, I’ve never paid for a suntan, and I’ve never had Botox or plastic surgery done. Well, I’ve had a tummy tuck, but that was a “perk” of having breast reconstruction. While I’m glad now that I had that procedure done, during my six-day hospital stay, I cursed the day I was born.

Where was I going with this whole thought? Oh yes. Not only does hair not like being dyed repeatedly by a novice/non-professional like me, it does not like thyroid problems. My hair started breaking off in chunks. Not only the hair on my head, but my eyelashes as well. I have had all my eyelashes (and eyebrows) fall out before. I do not want to go through that again. 

I went back to my hairdresser, Amber, and she whipped me into shape. She was patient and understanding. And charged me a small fortune to fix my head.

By |February 2014|It's Hard to Be A Woman|

February 3, 2014

It’s Hard To Be A Woman #11

01_03_2014_cancer_funny_balanced_woman_hashimotosAfter my disaster at the gynecologist appointment, I made an appointment with Haley, the naturopath that got me through cancer. She was—and is—my shrink, my vitamin-supplier, my right-hand woman.
“So, Marie, it’s been a long time,” Haley said.
“Yeah. I’m really hyped up again. I know you said you didn’t think I needed thyroid medicine (the last time I saw you), but I was freezing cold. All. The. Time. I couldn’t function. I went back to Joe. Remember him? He’s the naturopath that saw me before I got cancer and started coming to you. It was nothing personal. I just wanted to get a second opinion.”
She looked at me, pen poised in the air, but said nothing.
I continued my rant. “I also started taking that Balanced Woman stuff even though you told me not to. I even called TriVita—the company that sells it—to see what they thought. They said I shouldn’t take it either because of my past breast cancer history. Joe didn’t think it was a problem. I don’t know. I just want to be balanced hormonally….”
I jabbered in her ear some more. I could hear how hyper I was. Here I was, making a fool of myself two days in a row. When will this all be over? Speaking from personal experience, unfortunately, I have at least a few more weeks of this madness.
“Okay. First of all, let me see what you’re taking.”
I handed her my Balanced Woman bottle. I’m sure she looked at it, looked at me, and wrote down in her chart: “This woman is as far from balanced as you can get. Wish she would have stuck with Joe.”
She turned to me. “Well, I can see from this bottle”—she glanced over the ingredient list—“that there are several things in here that are stimulating. These herbs are probably fine for other women, but for you right now, they’re too much.”
She was very gracious. She could have stood on her chair and yelled at me, “I told you not to take that stuff! However, I did tell you to take the Cell Guardian—the natural form of Tamoxifen I was giving you—but you never listen to me. You always know better than me.”
Out loud, she advised. “Stay off the thyroid medicine. Armour extract is not standardized. You don’t really need it.”
She recommended a few more things.
Ah, it was good to be back. I hoped she could fix me.

By |February 2014|It's Hard to Be A Woman|