Rockin' Out with My Scalp Out

So, some of you may have noticed I've ditched the hats.

It could be the warmer weather that started this trend, but I'd like to say it was my likening to my giant, shiny, bald head.

Unfortunately it was most likely the hot temps we are experiencing in Texas. Needless to say, the suns is out, so the scalp is out. #needsomeSPFstat

But I will say, that I have finally threw my hands in the air with Lil Jon's "I don't give a F" attitude and accepted what is.

I'm bald.
I look different.
And I am different.

"But I don't give a damn, so you don't give a F**K," see what I did there Lil JON?

"OOOoooookkaaaaaayyyyy," I can see him respond shaking his head and dreads errrywhere.

I know. I'm dumb.
But sitting in a hospital bed 24 hours a day will kinda do that to ya. #FREECASS #FREECASS

I've just gotten to the point I can look in the mirror and recognize the girl staring back at me. I see photos of me with hair and I don't know if I'll ever be "her" again. I don't think I will ever fully be her because cancer has changed me, but I do see part of me still there.

Ironically, I'm more physically happy with myself now than I have ever been and I'm probably in the worst shape I've ever been in physically. I just honestly don't care about all of the "beauty fog" that swarms us any more. I'm "balding out" and I never wear make up any more and so what? Who cares? Maybe if I had my own team of people who wanted me to prep me for the day, I'd be game, but even then, that seems too exhausting.

I don't need to prove to anyone that I'm pretty with or without hair. I'm happily married to a handsome man and he loves me skinny, fat, bald, no eyelashes, etc. He accepts me for who I am; I just wish I could have had that same attitude about myself sooner in life.

I'm getting used to being me--without all of the extras brushed on WAR PAINT to make me look better. I'm not saying I won't go without makeup for the rest of my life; I wouldn't put the world through that...

Of course, putting some a little something, something here or there helps make anyone feel a little better. Instagram has some great filters, but they aren't that damn great.

But I think I'm more confident now leaving the house without makeup, even if it's just to go to the grocery store. I ALWAYS AND I MEAN ALWAYS had to have at least something on when I left the house. Most of the time it was the mascara that did me in. These light-colored eyelashes do nothing for my pale complexion so I usually just put on foundation, bronzer, eye shadow, (aka the whole she-bang), because of the eyelashes.

But now that I don't have any, I don't care. Not much I can do besides glue some falsies on and I have the cutting-and-gluing skill level of a pre-schooler.

This whole journey has led me through many ups and downs and places that I never thought I'd reach. But acceptance is key to anyone going through a similar journey. Accepting who you are physically, emotionally, intellectually, etc, is the key to realizing your potential and getting over the "sorry-for- yourself-hump" when faced with life's challenges. #whatdayisit #humpday

You have to accept yourself in all aspects of life to continue to thrive and not live a stagnant life. We have to keep moving forward and keep progressing, and the only way to do that is by accepting life's challenges hand-in-hand and riding out the waves of life.

We have to keep reaching, wanting and aiming higher to make this a life worth living for.

I'm doing everything I can to fight for myself and my kids. I miss them so much, and it's tearing me apart and it's only Day 4 in the hospital.

But I have to remind myself they are all I care about.

Who gives a shit if I'm bald?
Who cares if I have no hair?
Who cares if you think I'm ugly without eyelashes? Or without make up on?

I have a wonderful life with two beautiful boys and a handsome husband.
I'm fortunate beyond belief.
That's what matters.

But today, I do just really miss them.

I know it's already Thursday, and I still have a ways to go before I get up outta here (three more days of chemo and two more weeks in this hospital bed), and to be honest I'm surprised how fast it all is moving so far (of course I typed that earlier and I feel like the day has ticked by very slowly since).

I'm sure it will really start to slow down when the chemo starts kicking in and I really feel weak, tired and sickish. I get all queasy just thinking about it.

At least by then, I SHOULD be able to get the good drugs.

Effin' peeps trying to keep me from doping up in here. I mean c'mon people, it's safe.
I'm in a hospital.
You're monitoring me...
Give me the goods.

I know I sound like a total druggie. But that's the one perk to being in the place...mmmkay? #dontstomponmyrainbow

I don't even know what that means. I just made that up. And I don't even have any drugs in me!

It'd be super entertaining for my readers and followers if I were all drugged up.

Klay could film me.
I could be thinking I'm winning a Grammy or some shit,
Or thinking I'm seeing Klay for the first time like that guy did when he got his wisdom teeth pulled and couldn't remember his wife,
Or crying because I want Beyonce to come see me. I don't even like Beyonce [no offense Bey, but I think Kanye likes you enough for everyone],
But that's not the damn point.
The point is---drugs are good.

Funny things happen when you're on drugs. Haven't you watched any movies?

Ok, I sounds like a total drug-head when I've literally never even smoked pot--LIKE EVER. I know, I'm talking the talk, but I never walked the walkie.

I honestly haven't.
I'm a total square.

Maybe when my kids graduate and I go to Amsterdam one day (shhhh! don't tell them, it will be mommy and daddy's secret), I'll toke it up, live large and be a little risqué, but right now I'm gonna stay drug free--unless it's hospital drugs.

Last night, I couldn't sleep a wink. I honestly couldn't, and I was exhausted this morning.
NO SLEEP = RESTING BITCH FACE.

So effin' angry at the damn world this morning cause they won't give me the good shit. DAMN you Busulfan (chemo). Three more days and I better be back to the good drugs... poor pitiful drug-wanting Cass. All she wants is some good sleep! IS that too much to ask?

Cancer, do you see what you've done to me?



You've turned me into someone different. DRUGS!!!!! DRUGS!!!! DRUGS!!!!

RIP clean and sober, Cass.

I'm officially going to replace Dopey from the Seven Dwarves now. It's happening.

Wait, Where did this post start?

Ahh forget it.

DRUGS.



PS. This is joke-post and I don't mean anything too seriously by it but... if you get offended, lighten up, go get stoned and then let me know how it goes.

Why I Hate My Vagina

OK.

The title is a bit harsh, I know.

BUT!

My vagina hates me.

And, I'm starting to hate it back.

Many of you read about my vagina problems here, and, guess what?

They didn't go away.

"The Color Purple" post was actually written a week prior to when I posted it. And this post was written on April 9th, so I'm happy to report my lady parts are back to normal.

I debated and went back and forth on whether or not to actually publish the original post. Airing out my vagina probs with the world wasn't exactly easy to do.

Ultimately, I decided to go for it. This is my page to write whatever I want and I would totally tell this story around my girlfriends, so why not here?



And I think the only guy who follows my blog is my husband anyway! And he, ahem, knows what I'm working with.

So let me start where I ended "The Color Purple" post...

I'm using some GIFs to help tell this story.

After my cycle ended, my YI symptoms began to return. And, about 9248923492 times worse than before; and, I mean it when I say 9248923492 times worse.

I was literally going crazy.



I was now going on seven weeks with this yeast infection bull.

SO, I called my gynecologist again and scheduled an appointment for Monday (the day of the 3D Crest/ELLE event).

The appointment was early and in Dallas, so I was up and at 'em earlier than usual. And, I didn't have my coffee so I put on the most hideous outfit known to man with no thought of having to be in the public eye while shopping for clothes for the soiree later that evening.

Ya'll should have seen some of the looks I got. 

I had plenty of "WTF-is-she-wearing looks" thrown my way. But I really didn't care. I had a busy day.



I walked into the doctor's office tired, feeling fat, and anxious to see my doc. Let me fast-forward for you...

So I am laying down, feet up in the air, with my lady parts exposed for the doc to examine...

What do you think happened next?

If you've been reading my blog for a while, you should know it can't be good...

She
painted
me
purple
AGAIN.



Ya'll, I can't make this shit up. And I know that's how you feel... as you laugh at my medical probs.

I didn't have my vagina painted purple once, but twice. Ugh, only me.

If you remember I did mention in the original post, things normally don't work right for me medically the first time around... I always have to go back to the doctor. I should have known this wouldn't go away like it "should."

So now, it's back to looking like an ink pen busted in my undies again. #purplevaginaprobs

And this time she "got it really good," she said... whatever that means. It took her a little longer to "paint" me up, and she event signed her name on my thigh!

LOL, I'm kidding.

The only good thing from all of this... maybe I can go on a Victoria's Secret splurge for new undies. I'm gonna need them.

After I left the doctor, I was incredibly frustrated but had to shift my focus to finding an outfit for the event later night.

I went to a nearby Dallas mall and found nothing. The only thing Forever 21 had was crop tops.
Um, no thanks.

And, then I thought. Maybe that's why it's called Forever 21, for those 21-ers. Am I too old to shop there now? I'd pick up something and say to myself "Who the hell wears this crap?"

This is how I felt while going through the store...



I met Klay for a quick lunch and told him my va-jay-jay was 50 shades of violet again. His reaction:



He then asks, "So, what color are they going to do next if this doesn't work? Yellow? Green? Orange?"

"Um, honey, I don't think it works that way."

The things he says sometimes!

I headed to an outlet mall near Mom's house after lunch. I always shop at Maurices because I can usually find a ton of options there, so if you every want to buy me a present, ahem!, a gift card there would be amaze balls.

And, I found a lot of cute clothes, shoes and jewelry that's off the chain (pun intended).



After leaving there, I rushed to mom's picked up Brody, had her paint my toenails because I don't know how. I was a tomboy growing up ya'll; don't judge. And, side note: there are several other things I don't know how to do--whistle or blow up a balloon. I think it's a blonde thing. #blondestruggles

Here's a list of reasons why I hate my vagina:

                

1. She's a pain in my ass. Don't take that literally because then I'd have a real medical condition. But lately she's done nothing but cause me frustration and irritation (that you can take literally).
2. She requires a lot of maintenance. I was reading in Cosmopolitan the other day, and most women go full brazilian down south. Nough said.
3. She's expensive. And, with all this YI BS I've had to use too many creams, pantiliners, pads, etc. I'm paying for the light bill at the Always Factory this month for sure. #canIgetadiscount
4. She's guaranteed to make me a complete basket case at least one week a month. Mother Nature comes a callin' with a vengeance...
5. She clearly has a cruel sense of humor. From YI's to painting it purple, she's given my readers and maybe even me a few laughs.

And, just like in my first post, I got a call from my awesome nurse--shout out to Melissa--who informed me it wasn't a yeast infection AGAIN. I painted my vagina TWICE for no reason.

Apparently it's all in my head.



I'm glad I got that off my chest!

Let me know what you thought of this post! What GIF would describe your day today? Comment below!

Don't forget to become a follower and share this blog with your friends and family. If I get 20 more likes on FB and 30 followers on this blog, Klay and I will play egg roulette!