HAIR

Soo, my hair started falling out yesterday. As you know, I'm already shaved. But while Bam and I were sitting at the pool, my scalp was itching under my hat; natch, I scratched. Next thing I know, I look down at my fingers and they are COVERED in hair. Sure enough, I lifted my hat and the entire rim was lined in 1/8" hairs. Of course, it was a little disconcerting, but right on schedule. You know me, type-A till the end, always meeting my deadlines.

We immediately went upstairs, I sat in the bath and Bam shaved the head completely. It actually didn't feel so weird, but was def traumatic. Thankfully my sense of humor is intact, the Xanax scrip is filled and Bam is here to hold my hand so to speak. The nastiest part is the hair flying everywhere on me, so that my arms looked like (a?) Sasquatch. I have a thing about hair anyway and am never without my lint brush. So you can imagine the squeamishness I felt with my own little hairs all over my body and face. Eww. I mean, I carry a lint brush to Dana's house with me due to her pug and her Siamese cat who shed like motherfuckers. I even roll it over my face.

We got the whole thing on video. And yes, those are my tennis ball titties. I know how gross they are so save the comments. The good news is that they are almost a full C cup, so I am only going to let the plastic surgeon inflate them a tiny bit more. Cause let me tell you, my deltoids are still smarting from this skin-stretching nightmare. It's really, truly, disgustingly foul. But, surprisingly, the scars on the breastesses have almost completely faded, so I guess I have skin that heals pretty well. Can't wait to have normal, fake, silicone titties like all the rest of the South Beach women. And yes, ladies, (Nancy P.) my bras are all up for grabs.

The evidence:




Some lighter material. . .

Dana engaging in her fave hobby at chemo. They actually bring around sandwiches, salads etc while you're there. Yeah, my camera is totally ghetto and overexposed during daylight. I cannot for the life of me figure out what's wrong despite reading the manual. If anyone has a Casio Exilim and can help, I'd be very grateful.

Kobi loves my dad. Apparently after our pre-chemo dinner Sunday night, he kept saying "Mark." Meanwhile, I haven't heard him say my name in ages. Ahem. Though he is proficient in all food names and "boobie." The kid can put away food like nothing else. Whenever he goes to Rosa Mexicano, he polishes off nearly a whole tub of their guac. I'm not shitting you. It's hilarious.



The Silvers decided to celebrate St. Patrick's day on Easter Sunday. They were all, coincidentally, donning green.