Reading photos. LOOK at my fucking water-filled chemo arms. Seriously? I can do better push-ups in yoga than the buffest gays at Equinox and thanks to the WATER I look like I've never lifted a thing a day in my life. FUCK YOU Cancer. FuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyouFuckyou.

I'm still trying to digest the reading and why it left me emotionally crippled and crying yesterday over everything including this new Van Cleef ring that I was forced to be tortured with trying on thanks to mom 'visiting' the watch she's contemplating. (I only feel justified trying on such things when I'm with people who are actually buying.) And as I beheld its beauty on my chubby, chemo-dry digit, after what was apparently a very "successful" night in my career, all I thought was: I am never going to be able to buy MYSELF a present like that. Forget about a man or a husband or a boyfriend—I'm not one of those girls who inspires gift-giving from the opposite sex. I've never had the (what I think is odd) experience of having a man take me shopping and buy me what I wanted. I think of nothing lovelier when my uncle goes into a store and buys Kim a bauble, or when dad has jewelry from Landsberg shipped to Jax so mom can choose her birthday present.

But I digress. Just because I've accepted these facts doesn't mean I have to be happy about them. And I'm not. I hate my life. I hate Cancer. I hate the fact that I don't feel like a sexual being anymore. My body is just a shell now; all pretty on the outside and diseased on the inside. I don't know what's worse—being ugly on the outside and healthy on the inside like I was in college, or the way I am now.

And I digressed again naturally. I was only on here to share this link, which I didn't know about until someone texted me that I looked hot on the Heeb site. So this is my first (and likely last) real author profile/Q&A. And you guys know I don't talk about S.E.X. here—that is the one area that is not only boring in my life but also off-limits to the public—but in this interview I do. Because it was nearly 10 years ago, and I had three questions to answer one of which was sex-specific, I basically had to.

So enjoy. Sigh. Have I mentioned that I'm still in bed, slept till 4 p.m. and can't even summon the strength to go get food? Yeah, living the life as usual. And that I'm not moving back to New York for some time—probably until I have enough money to either buy that damn Van Cleef or put a downpayment on a condo. So, like, never, apparently. Another day living the dream people.

"Stephanie Green: Cancer Is the New Black"