Beauty Should Be Free! Dammit!

It didn't take too long after my diagnosis to recognize clear and visible issues with my skin care. It wasn't so much the chemotherapy, the radiation, or the tumor itself, as much as it was a lack of finances to continue my well established skin care regime. You see, vanity ran deep in my family and being the 'gay one', I was perhaps the vainest of all, although this fact could be hotly debated by my sister Diana. Diana was so captivated by the powerful call to beauty she enlisted to a two year tour at the Academy for Beauty Culture in Belleville, Illinois. Thanks to Diana's selfless act of dedication, our world would have one more soldier in the fight against ugly. She paid her dues at a few different JC Penney's here and there after piddling away her talents with many home perms as a kitchen beautician. She is now the very proud owner a successful salon of her very own. Check her out, It's the Aspen Edge Salon in Pueblo West, Colorado. I'm super proud of my big sis.

I am the first to give mother nature. genetics, or whatever you want to call it props for my nice skin. I know that when it comes to natural skin, my brothers, sister, and I kind of hit the cosmic lottery. We were four beautiful babies that were the fruit of two very beautiful parents. All of our births were proud proud moments for the eugenics argument, but such natural beauty can have some expensive maintenance responsibilities. God forbid I ever have to walk a mile in my mothers sensible shoe footsteps with all of those Milk of Magnesia facials, Preparation H under eye treatments, and Arm & Hammer teeth whiteners. That was a different time and generation. Just like iPods and the Internet she didn't have modern science on her side. She took to her beauty naturally and instinctively, the same way homely forest creatures would.

Pretty soon my trips to the Clinique counter were hijacked by chemo cabs and doctors visits. The beautiful glistening bottles of liquid beauty on my vanity were evicted and squatted upon by prescription iron tablets, anti nausea pills, and so many other ugly drab orange reminders of death in child proof caps. With everything I was already losing, my job, my boyfriend. my house, why did I have to sit helpless and watch my amazing skin betray me.

I found many outreach programs that helped those struggling with cancer. There were programs to help with housing and food expenses. Other programs that helped to pay for medication and transportation to and from doctor visits. I even found one organization that helped women struggling with the loss of hair from chemo by providing them with free wigs. (I stress women here as they never even gave me a chance) All of my exhausted research came up dry when looking for that special good Samaritan who understood how just a little Lancome or Clinique could make a profound difference in my self esteem. As I enjoyed the last tiny little pump of Fruition I realized that I would have to lower my standards and try Oil of Olay or whatever mayonnaise they were hawking as skin care at Wal-Mart.

I spent the better half of an afternoon finding the strength and courage to drive to Wal-Mart and allow my new dawn of skin care to begin. I was in the health and beauty aisle about 2 minutes before I shouted out in dumbfounded exasperation. $29.99?!?!?! Thirty bucks for a loving spoonful from the cesspool of skincare?!?!?! How dare they! How can this be?? In a moment of blinding insanity fueled by a "God, why me?" attitude, I turned my head from side to side and then up to the heavens (well, the ceiling to look for security cameras) and took the jar of Oil of Olay and put it in my pocket. I went through the check out aisle with my legitimate purchases, after all im not a thief, and headed for the door. Beads of sweat soaked my forehead as I slowly stepped through the little security barrier. I was beginning to hyperventilate when the tunnel vision of nearly passing out provided me with a reminding glimpse of the bright yellow tag reading "$29.99". At the moment my fucked up sense of entitlement gave me the courage to sublimely smirk at the 85 y/o greeter and proudly (and quickly) walk out the door. The lack of any beeping alarm sounded like, to me anyway, a new era in skin care had in fact began. Beauty Should Be Free! Dammit!!

Im not recommending all of you go out and steal yourselves some beauty cream, but I do however challenge all of you to keep in mind the little things that make us feel human when faced with something as insurmountable as cancer.