Wax On, Wax Off

A sight for sore eyes: the waxing pot.

I realize I haven't been posting as regularly in the past few weeks and I have received requests to pick up the pace (from my most loyal readers - thanks guys).  I have been writing, but not posting, due to the venting nature of my content.  I want to be honest, but not totally complain-y (I save that for immediate family members and therapists only) on this blog and the past few weeks have been on the sucky side.  The kitchen is still not finished (but I will post pics as soon as blogspot stops rejecting them), we continue to have car troubles, my head is cold, the house is dusty, and I haven't even started radiation yet.  Is it just a coincidence that the "f" key on my laptop is especially sensitive?  Argh.

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I can get back to more important topics such as hair.  Today was a momentous day in the life of this cancer patient.  I had my eyebrows waxed.  This would be the appropriate time to ask yourself, "Am I supposed to laugh?  Or is she being serious?" At least that's how Dan responded when I told him I was going to have it done.

I think I mentioned a few posts ago that my hair is starting to grow back, ever so sloooooowly, one freaking follicle at a time.  And upon close inspection (and reflection) in the mirror, I can see that many more hairs are trying to get out in the open, to the warming point.  However, apparently these hairs went undercover and have managed to get ahold of an invisibility cloak.  They are so light in color, they're almost clear.  Yes, it's true, I have clear hair.  And not just on my head, but above my eyes, too. 

Any woman out there knows how it feels to deal with hair - any color, anywhere on your body - that you believe got someone else's DNA.  To maintain a clean feeling, a feminine feeling, if you will, it is imperative that any and all of those misbehaving, wrongful hairs suffer a painful death.

Now that I've been through months of losing all of the hairs I so casually complained about for two thirds of my life, I should be more appreciative of them all - no matter where they want to grow, right?  WRONG.  My eyebrows (however difficult to detect with the naked eye) deserve to have a shape, an arch, a uniform presentation (and I'm not talking about Burt's unibrow here).  I can't let the brows turn into a jungle, just because I'm so happy to have them back.  That's like letting the grass in your front yard grow as high as your knees after recovering from a period of drought.  You still need to mow, for heaven's sake.  What will the neighbors think?

So today, after my monthly energizing port flush, I visited the lovely Rebecca, a neighbor of a fabulous friend who knows all about healthy skincare, and she did the waxing for me (and she didn't laugh!).  She was careful to shape the prickly hairs without trimming them (which we agreed would make me look like I shaved them), thus giving me the perfectly-sized, partially-blank canvas to add my own makeup to.  She also gave my thoroughly parched skin a drink via a lovely facial massage.  Good stuff.





10 days until radiation begins.  I am preparing myself now, with my complementary medicine (acupuncture and massage), a small tub of body butter (I think it's actually edible) and the will to keep myself clean, as I've been warned this is the most important tip to keep in mind during treatment.

xxoo