I’m back in Chicago this week - the first time since my favorite boss in the whole wide world retired and we had a big party for him. The first time since meeting up with Bossy. The first time since coming out to the world about my, um, hairless state.

The first time that any of these people have seen me wearing a scarf to cover my bald-as-a-cue-ball head.

And so, far, y’know, it’s been just fine.

Granted, I haven’t left my floor very often. And I ate lunch at 11 a.m. (hey, it was Noon for my body clock).

And I did get “I’ll have to pat down your scarf” at the airport. I thought about making a smart-ass comment about the kids walking through in ball caps, but it was 5:45 - in the morning - I just wasn’t in any mood to be hauled off to be strip-searched in the Detroit TSA room before 6 a.m.

So, I submitted to the security agent touching me on the back of the head. No contraband was found(!), so I was allowed to go my merry way.

One bitch (the same one that I had a meeting with) here in the office made some comment about how “green” I was. Once again, the immediate smartass comment that came to mind was, “Well, duh. I’m trying not to puke at the sight of you.”

But I didn’t.

I smiled. And walked away.

I no longer want to cry when I look in the mirror. Baby steps, right?

I told Mr. Hot last night that I wasn’t getting up until 4 a.m. today (to catch that freakin’ early-dark-thirty flight) because “I don’t have to worry about fixing my hair.”

Baby steps.

I pay close attention to my makeup now. I used to be very self-conscious about wearing low-cut tops that showed cleavage. Not anymore. You want to look at my rack? Let me make it easier for you.

I’ve brought out my gorgeously elaborate earrings - earrings that I haven’t worn in years because my long hair hid them.

I spent $100 today on scarves and hats from one of my new favorite websites.

I’m thinking about getting contacts. I haven’t had them since I was 18, but y’all have made me appreciate my eyes.

All baby steps. Baby steps on the road to acceptance that my hair may not grow back.

It’s not all bad, either.

The hairs on my chin? Not growing any more. No waxing of my ’stache is necessary.

I think I could go longer before shaving my pits and my legs, but I’ve been doing that every day since I was 14 or so… and old habits are hard to break.

Coming back to Chicago was a huge baby step (no, that’s not an oxymoron - it’s an apt description) for me.

I don’t go to an office every day anymore. People didn’t see me gradually losing my hair to get to where I am today, so the questions that I see floating around in their minds that would have been answered while I still had some hair didn’t get asked. Now, they’re uncomfortable asking. I’m uncomfortable volunteering.

(Of course, the people I’m closest to here - they all know what’s going on. I needed a group of trusted friends to listen for the wild rumors and to set people straight. )

So, to celebrate my giant baby step, I’m going to be sitting outside over on Rush this evening. Drinking wine. In my green scarf.

—- Oh, and the other thing that is a “first time since” for today? The first fuckin’ time I’ve had heels on since the last time I was in Chicago. Well, I’ve had them on, for pictures for Kelley, but I haven’t had to walk around in them. There’s nothing like a pair of peep-toe slingbacks for strutting along in the Summer. In the city. —-

come as you are

Right here, right now. Purple tank top/yellow bra. Mismatched scarf. No makeup and just put on my moisturizer - says the shiny face.

Today’s episode of The Hot Affair is going to be shown tomorrow. Mostly because I haven’t written it yet, and I need to plan through the sequence of events in my head. Besides, I have a couple of other things to tell you about.

Yesterday I went to meet my new doctor and she is wonderful. She’s beyond wonderful. She made me laugh while she was shooting my head full of cortisone! Seriously y’all, how could you not like someone who can crack jokes that are actually funny after the 20th poke. She gave me 27 shots all together (I’m so sorry, those of you in the audience who are turning white…. Hey, can someone pick Sue up off the floor?) - and is confident that she’ll have the same luck as Dr. Boyfriend. (Growing it back. Geez, y’all. But, y’know, if she does have the same luck, I may just make out with her on the examination table!)

The joke? She asked me if I was going home after the visit. I said, “Oh yea…and probably straight to bed for an hour.” She came back with, “Oh, good. I’d hate for you to go run errands with blood spurting out of your head like a sprinkler.” (Okay, so it wasn’t a good joke, but at least she has a sense of humor.)

Another appointment in 4 weeks - we’re both convinced that there will be some new hair growing in by then.

-lalalalalala-

Mr. Hot and I went to the garden center today and bought three beautiful, huge hanging baskets. (And yes, he’s the one that makes sure they live…I’ve had plants commit suicide because they just can’t stand the neglect love that I shower them with!) Two deep purple petunias - the “Wave” petunias that pour over the sides of the baskets - they’re hanging on the front porch and set off the green of the posts and the door very nicely. In the interest of getting the hummingbirds back this year, we also picked up a fuchsia (why does Wordpress think I should type Eustachian instead?) … the pink and purple set off the purple of the petunias very nicely.

We decided to put a trellis in the spot where the wellhead is - and I’m going to plant Morning Glorys this year. I still can’t figure out what I want to do with that spot permanently, so we’ll go with the violets and hosta that are already there - I added some “wildflower” seeds to see if they come up - and after the morning glory seeds soak for a day or so, I’ll plant them. Hopefully it will all fill in nicely and add some color to an otherwise weedy spot.

So, those of you who are serious about their gardening, you’re probably laughing at me. “Ha! Hotfessional, that is sooooooo common of you. WTF?” You’re absolutely right. I can’t argue with that at all. But I don’t have a lot of time to figure it all out … and I live in Zone 5 … which pretty much means … I’m fucked. (Wait, that’s not really true. There are a lot of beautiful things that can grow around here, but we have midwestern clay for soil, we’re surrounded by trees (the parts of the yard that get full sun are generally not gardenable - because that’s where the septic tank is), and I just don’t know what to do.

—- So remember that the May Hotlight is garden blogs? SEND ME SOME! Don’t let me down, okay? Either leave me your favorite garden blog in the comments for this post, or send me an email with “May Hotlight” in the subject. —-