Strut. Kick. Strut. Kick.
We had a fabulous, debauchery filled night at Rocky Horror last night. Everyone brought their A game with dressing up. So much leg, too little time. Got put on stage, were the loudest ones, had FOUR virgins with us. Continued on to a few bars in the Castro. The rest of the Rocky group headed home and I stayed out with a few of the boys. Having lost the context of my outfit, I got a few funny questions and some of the best compliments EVER. (Your girl was feelin’ fierce.) Getting called asian Dita and Jessica Rabbit made me outlandishly happy. It was a fabulous night. How’s your weekend?
The one where I get a scalp biopsy.
I get to have some chunks of scalp cut out next week, woooo!
I suppose I should preface this story with a few things. I was diagnosed with Alopecia Areata about 8 months ago. It’s an auto-immune skin disease that makes your immune system attack hair follicles. Not a lot is known about Alopecia, (or most auto-immune diseases for that matter) causes, triggers, progression, cures, etc. Also, I love my hair. Not gonna’ lie to you, it’s awesome. But I digress.
So this is something I’ve been trying to figure out yatta yatta yatta. I was pretty severely bummed for a while and still am occasionally. I’ve also been collecting doctor’s, specialists and various treatments like Pokemon. As part of all of this nonsense with the hair and whatnot, I gave my information to the Alopecia registry for research etc. and now they’d like me to come in for a biopsy. With the impending let’s-cut-chunks-out-of-your-already-damaged-scalp appointment looming, I’ve been thinking about what having this means to me. Of course I’d like to help people study this and figure out a way to cure it, but let’s be honest, I just want them to tell me what I have to do to make it stop. Which in turn makes me feel outlandishly vain. Yes this sucks. Yes I get sad about it, but you know what? I don’t have cancer. I’m not losing my hair because of chemo and this isn’t going to kill me. This is a disease that prays on my vanity. That’s it.
So I tell myself to suck it up and that essentially my immune system is a group of mean girls that is telling parts of my hair that they can’t sit with us anymore. And then I giggle and everything will be just fine.
Who fainted on the train platform and has a huge shiner? This girl. Aaaaaaall right.
Watching the new Game of Thrones trailer on repeat. (Completely unrelated to the aforementioned mild concussion. I’m just really excited about it.) I think my forehead is throbbing in time to the music.
A sea of fabulous new followers. Hi! How’s it going? Good. I’m glad you’re content. Thanks for joining us.
(can you tell I’ve been sick and working from home and crave human interaction yet?)
It’s really slow at the gallery
So I’m listening to show tunes and singing.