No Nonsense Me Over the Head
Did you see Bill Murray on Letterman last night? Lord, I still love Bill Murray!
Thanks for letting me fuss yesteday, peeps. It helps to get it off of my chest – and so many of you give me hope. And calm me down.
I’m meeting with a chiropractor tomorrow morning. Not Dr. Matt. And not the chiropractor with a twist in physiology. This one is a referral from some no nonsense friends. And after talking with the chiropractor on the phone yesterday afternoon, this is a chiropractor who is also no nonsense.
Dr. Matt was nice but he was pretty much just an adjustor. This woman is definitely more holistic and she’s already working on a holistic approach to my foot and my cancer. She wants to mess with my diet and it’s about time somebody did.
I also have an appointment for a consultation with the reconstructive surgeon on Monday. I want to know if I should just go ahead and have surgery now or try and lose some of this back fat before I have the surgery. I’m hoping he’ll want to do something for me soon because I am sick and tired of feeling this gross.
I just worry about surgery and my arm. We’ll see what he has to say about that. Did I tell you that this surgeon, who my breast surgeon referred me to, is the same surgeon who did Sting and my mom’s neighbor – Terry’s, surgery on? And he did a great job with them (remember – I’ve seen Terry’s boobs many times) so it was pretty cool that, out of the blue, my breast surgeon referred me to a reconstructive surgeon who’s work I’ve actually seen! (whether I wanted to or not. According to my mom, Terry is now showing her new nipples to the world. I’m trying to keep my distance. And can I say a special thank you to Sting, who’s never offered to show me her boob job!)
Another thing I need to do is to go through my closets and figure out what pieces of clothing make me feel like myself and what pieces of clothing make me feel like a fucking dork.
I can already tell you the things that make me feel like me…button down shirts, black t-shirts and white t-shirts under sweater vests. The end. All that other stuff that I was trying to hide under needs to go. Or be trimmed down to a few things that I’ll like wearing under jean jackets this fall, after this wet summer is gone.
I wish Ellen Degeneres were my size because I like her wardrobe. Except those man vests that she wears. Because if Ellen were my size, I’d write her a letter and ask her to send me her used goods. And I’m just sure Ellen would do that because, afterall, I am the center of the universe.