one hundred and seventy seven


I never ever took my wedding ring off. Except for surgery and I’d never had any prior to my two caesarians. Not elective (not really sure why I felt the need to add that but I suspect there’s a blog in there somewhere). Anyway, when our daughters were born B wore my ring on his baby finger. And then during all my breast cancer treatments, and he still does because the chemo and ongoing medication has led to swollen joints so my ring doesn’t fit anymore. He has never taken it off from the moment he put it on for safekeeping. I am grateful for the feeling I felt this morning as my glance settled on B’s hand. I think it’s called love.


Today I had eyelash extensions. I have tried a little botox and I have implants. Just so that you know I have no problem with any of them. In fact, I’m loving my lashes, and I love my implants, because else I wouldn’t have a breast. I wasn’t sure about the botox, mostly to get rid of my number eleven, because I was so adamant it should be very natural so no-one ever noticed. Although B hasn’t called me number eleven for a while, and Sandy who makes my morning coffee, hasn’t asked me why I’m frowning (even when I’m not). The thing that bothers me about it though, is how addictive I can see it all becomes. I can see I’m going to hate my own stubby, sparse, never grew back properly after chemo eyelashes, when these extensions fall off. Just like I’ll hate it when people start asking me why I’m so irritated when I’m not. I get that it makes you feel better, because you look better, so you feel more confident, are more confident, and how wonderful is that. But the thing that sparked this off, was not my lashes, but the form I had to fill in at the salon. When it got to date of birth, it said optional. When I queried, the therapist laughingly advised how many women don’t want to share their age. So, for me the thing is, how can we not celebrate our years and our wisdom and our experiences, our scars and our wrinkles, because they tell our stories. Why do we deny our age? Are we not then denying our lives? Denying what is?  I love that we can make ourselves look better, and feel better, but my plea to all my friends is, just know when to stop. You are beautiful just as you are. And those who love you, will love you no matter how saggy, scarred and wrinkled you are. And those who won’t, never did.