In times of trouble, all manner of women are summoned for help. Mother Mary is the big kahuna—you know, the Catholic thing. There are also saints: Peregrine who helps those with cancer and, of course, Rita, who comes to the aid of widows in distress.
But when the shit hits the fan, this girl’s go-to badass, aside from Claire Underwood, is Selina Meyer. The only chick to drop more f-bombs than me. With flair. And gusto.
At the cancer center yesterday, I find chemo/radiation is pushed back yet another few days as some or other thing isn’t ready yet. Evidently these people do not understand I have a pretty kickass life and need to get back to it. To say cancer has put a crimp in my style is putting it lightly.
I haven’t been to the fave country bar in three and a half months. They just wonder where I am. There is no cocktailing in my regimen. I tried wine last week—it burned my throat so badly, it’s a definite Glamour don’t.
“Come to happy hour,” they say. “You don’t need to drink. It’s all about the company. It’ll be fun.” Love my peeps to the ends of the earth but while you sip wine, taste brie delicacies and laugh a little more with each sip, I get ornery. Has everyone forgotten I am the life of the party? I find without Pinot or a Grey Goose, I am a bit quieter, less enthusiastic and certainly would not jump on a table and dance. Where’s the fun in that?
No wine and cancer treatment moving at a snail’s pace has me throwing a bit of a hissy. Channeling Selina seems natural.
Don’t know her? Oh my dolls. Fix that nonsense. She is the first woman president on Veep. Veep because she was the vice president until the pres was convinced to step down clearing the way for the woman with the foulest mouth on earth to lead the free world. Squee.
The Goddess and I listen intently as Susie explains side effects of chemo. The mind wanders. How will I kick the shit out of this? How will I stay ahead, unafraid and in charge? Frustration mounts. I am even a little short with the scheduler, which I never do—even at my bitchiest. This I regret.
Selina’s words echo in my head, as if her spirit is in the room. How will I kick this?
“Yeah, now look at me. I have a dick and balls.” Take that chemo.
Need some more for when life gets you down? My pleasure…
“I’d rather set fire to my vulva, so that’s a no.”
“Why don’t you put on your running shoes and get to the fucking point.”
“I’m fluent in bastard, ok. It’s one of my languages.”
“Don’t give me that Quaker in a titty bar look.”
Work got you down? Co-workers don’t recognize your importance? Try this:
“That door should be half its height so that people can only approach me in my office on their goddamn, motherfucking knees.”
I’ve decided today is Take No Shit Day. Use that information as you will dolls.
The Duchess Diaries 