On the sexy topics of sex and dating

Bekah sent me a long email the other day that brought up what would happen if we blogged about the sex and dating lives of two hot chicks with cancer. The answer: who knows? Because enough of our family and friends and people we’ve had sex with (sorry, to out you as a non virgin, B) read our blogs and really…

Anyway. Tonight I’m going to a party. There will be a young man there who my friends would like to set me up with. They brought up the subject with him many months ago followed by, “Oh… and she has cancer… so you might want to wait a few months.” I guess he responded in a slightly horrified way (much as I would… cancer—no thanks! Those people have baggage!) and then when I did meet him at a party it was horribly, horribly awkward because I was obviously cancer-girl. In about an hour and half I am going over to his house (that he shares with my friend Brandon) for a party. As I have the ultimate cancer-perspective, our last encounter ceases to haunt me and I was just excited about a party (!) with my friends (!)

This afternoon CL sent me a text that said, “ps the other person whose birthday party it is is [Roommate X’s] ex… but don’t worry because you’re smarter than her.” Now I have a lot of anxiety and fear another awkward encounter; this time purely because I will be extremely awkward around this young man. But after trying on my entire wardrobe, I have found an appropriate outfit and as long as I remember to freshen up my deodorant and put some moisturizer on my “combination skin” things should be OK.

But back to paragraph 1: the sex and dating lives of hot chicks with cancer. Or in this case, my non sex and dating life. Dr. Oz said on Oprah a couple days ago that men don’t care about cellulite, so perhaps they also don’t care about temporary Alopecia. But I have also found out over the course of my short life that men are really uninterested in smart, empowered, and independent women so I fear cancer has made me even more of all of these things. It’s going to take a Salt ‘n’ Peppa “what a man” to handle me at this point.

Here is a list of things that make me feel unsexy:
-My shiny, bald head
-Watching my pubic hair fall out every time I go to the bathroom
-Being constipated for the last MONTH
-The huge bruises that I’ve gotten from being careless and low on platelets
-Suppression of hormones due to chemo

Here is a list of things that me feel sexy:
-The fact that I’ve lost almost 20 lbs with cancer
-My new yoga bod and my sexy lean muscle that’s poppin’
-The fact that I look GOOD bald
-The mysterious tan I’ve developed in spite of hiding from the sun all summer and wearing sun block
-I have an awesome rack

Well, expect more of my thoughts on this as I get totally “Real” about my sex and dating life which will hopefully materialize at some point. And don’t worry people who I have had sex with and who read this blog: I will not out you or speak of our encounters. I’m sorry I said the food at Geraldine’s was better than anything we ever had together, but the fried egg sandwich when a girl is on Pred and not on sexy hormones will make you say things like that on the internet…

How was that, B? I have a long email drafted to you that I will send soon. Mucho love.

Update: I don't care how you feel OR Pollyanna finally takes her Ambian

Note about this post: I wrote it at 5am after waking up thinking about how to make delicious red lentils AGAIN... I had my little am cooking project, but blessedly just managed to take a 2 hour nap. That makes 7 hours in one day already.... OK: here's the crazy.

Friends, I am going crazy. I think I’m about to lose it. The Predisone is over, my hair is finally coming out for real (goodbye soft buzz, hello shiny Q ball), and I have Cancer. This is hard. Even when it’s all good news and Green Energy Bubbles and Things Working Out… I have this marathon I have to run. And I’m going to mix terrible metaphors like crazy and tell you that I know I ran the first part like a champion because I was in good shape and I had good genes, but I’m still scared and exhausted when I look at the next 20 miles. (Mile 6: arbitrary)

It’s been an insane few weeks and I knew at one point I was going to have to stop my warm up run, skirting along the Edge of the Lake of Objectification (oh, Cancer: you affect all of us! How interesting you are!) and I’ve definitely donned the crazy pants for a sprint or two (freak out!) but on my little journey here, I feel like I’m getting closer and closer to the door (run, path, CP, door, pick a metaphor!) marked “Jessie’s Cancer, come on in…” It’s cool, I call Crazy Pants Card (and I win, right LYLAR?) and at some point in the next 72 hours I hope I can open the door and have a meltdown in the hallway because I have a premonition that’s the next step. I feel it building in a gross, gross, yucky, melt-y insides way.

I like to think about things like Cancer and Health and Infirmary and what they Mean. I’m a big fan of the word “paradigm.” All of these things have been helping me tremendously in my effort to find context for a lot of my experiences. When the personal gets to be too much, they’ve helped me not think about me and think about how other people could possibly be feeling in relation to me. Notice: OVER.

The other afternoon on the phone I had this breakthrough with my sister. I don’t care how she feels. I also don’t care how my mom feels. I just can’t anymore. And it’s OK to blog this because I told Sarah that and she was the person who gave me the A-OK to say out loud and to feel it. I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYONE BUT ME RIGHT NOW. Harry Potter-style, is this the password to get in my stupid metaphorical cancer door?

I mean, obviously I still have other shit going on and none of that is changing, but it’s 5 am and I think I just got about 5 hours of sleep (! Ambian+Red Wine) and I’m in the mood to talk about Being Sick instead of how I’m actually OK (it’s OK everyone! I’m OK!) I’m in the mood to entertain all the things that scare me about what’s going on.
List Style
Relapse: cancer forever. My body makes bad cells.
Chemo Brain: who am I if I am not quick witted? Don’t answer: fragile ego
Being Ugly: is wearing on me, I am getting fatter. I have zits on my chin. My soft hair has 5 hours left in existence.
Embracing the selfish: I already find myself a trial. I spend so much of my time considering how to be a good friend and I think that’s why I’m lucky to have such good friends. I think I’m about to be a Bad Friend. Blah, blah.

Secret-style (for those who are new to my blog I think the Secret is bullshit, but I like to do gratitudes anyway), I'd be remiss not let you know that I'm still grateful and all that, I just am wondering if that's what's standing between me and what feels like a looming and necessary mental breakdown sometime this weekend. I mean, I just HAVEN'T SLEPT IN LIKE WEEKS and it's MAKING ME CRAZY.