In which there will be slapping
April 7, 2012Cancer is many things. How’s that for a sentence with zero meaning? Yeah, great. Anyway, what I mean is, cancer is not just a disease. It is primarily that, but it is also a club you can join, wearing a pink ribbon or a yellow rubber bracelet. It can take over an identity. It is a monster. It can act as a teacher. What it is not, is a diet plan.
I’ve lost a fair amount of weight since I started chemo back in November of 2010. It’s fine. I don’t miss it.
Every now and again, I run into a guy I haven’t seen in a while. Most recently, this happened at a memorial service — not a traditional pick-up site. At least, it shouldn’t be. “Whoa!” said the man I was greeting, “I almost didn’t recognize you. You been going to the gym?”
“I have cancer,” I said.
“Oh, yeah. I had cancer…” (launches into story I don’t care about.)
I’ve run into other guys who feel that they have the right to check out my new, lighter frame, give me the once-over, and tell me in an inappropriate tone that I’m “looking good…” It is so offensive to me to be viewed as a sexual being, as if I lost weight through cancer simply to look better. I loathe them for seeing only opportunity, for overlooking my entire situation. I really do not require long expressions of sympathy from every person I meet, in fact I prefer not to have that at all. But for guys who know my situation, I would really hope that they wouldn’t turn lascivious. It is not flattering.
I don’t go anywhere anymore, so this happens infrequently, but I got a voicemail from a certain idiot who won’t take a hint or a direct rejection. He didn’t ask about my health at all. Obviously, I’m not dating right now, if I were, I wouldn’t date him, and I’m not calling him back.
I did not get cancer so my skinny jeans would fit better. Side note: my mother is also fixated on my weight. I came out dressed in some straight jeans, and she said, “Wow… Are those a 4?” “Eight,” I said. “You look so skinny,” she said. It’s so great! It took only 37 years and a life-threatening illness to win her approval!
It’s crazy! It’s sexy! It’s cancer!!!
I can’t tell you how repulsed I am by guys who suddenly find me attractive. Next time I encounter one, the slapping will begin. Get it together, idiots. Not everything is about your stupid penis. (oh no! I’m a lesbian feminazi!) Well, whatever. My disease, my body, my rules.
Once again, jaw on floor…
Every day’s an adventure.
This post is awesome.
Thanks, miss! You can listen to the Ramones at my house.
A lot of men are immature, superficial, and just douches. But many more men are not. Don’t let the @$$holes get you down, or at least try not to.
xoxo
Oh, I am not a man-hater by any means. I just resent the creepy ones.
Oh, I know you’re not… believe me. And I resent the creepy ones too. Ick.
xoxo
uggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
I am so sorry. Slap some motherfuckers, please.
What did the five fingers say to the face?
SLAP! (this punch line should be delivered as an actual physical blow.)
Those idiots have cancer of the intellect and soul. The cancer club should issue big foam bats — along with pink ribbons and yellow bracelets – so you can reach out and smack idiots. I would carry a big foam bat in solidarity with you. Let the smacking begin.
Amen. I’m ok with that.
once again i am dismayed and yet not too surprised, i guess the old saying if you have one you are one rings true, sometimes i ashamed to be a member of that particular tribe, peace and light be with you. xoxo
Thanks, Dan. Xo
Ah, how do I love thee.
I’ll be on slap patrol for you. Sounds right up my alley
Amen! Sllllllap!