the week that was

I finally got the chance to catch up with my sister yesterday after the whirlwind last few weeks. I’d missed her terribly. I’d missed all my family terribly, ask poor Hubby who has had to stick by my side like glue and tell me how much he loves me, misses me and that he thinks I’m pretty. Needy and tired is an understatement. Classic worn out me. Really.


I finally see my sister and you know one of the first things out of her mouth was ‘what the hell were you thinking wearing flats to a fashion parade!!?’ and I smirked. I’d known this was coming. I wear heels almost everywhere. Wedges mostly but always with some added height. Because why not, that’s why. The day I decided to ditch my ankle boots and wear the flats I KNEW my sister and I would be having this conversation.

You never wear flats, why start then I could hear her mumble as she pottered around in the kitchen. HA. Why indeed? The conversation was over and we went about bonding over party pies and some labelled kids stuff that she had invited her friends over to see which was apparently a HUGE hit with loads of sales. Then I mentioned that I was considering doing the Shave for a Cure next year. Full shave if I could raise enough money and that Amanda Claire {my sister} thought it was a TERRIBLE idea.

Conversation stopped.



Everyone stared at me with mouths open.

I looked around blinking and was like, what? What’s the matter?

Apparently they all thought that it was a really bad idea. Not just because shaving your head is a BIG commitment but because of this blog and being fashionable. Because it would take me years to grow my hair back. Because wasn’t I worried that under all that hair I might have a weird shaped head… There really is no turning back. Holy crap, think that through, they said.

And I laughed again because I knew once that it was one of those conversations that I had already made up my mind would make no difference to me. If I do the shave it’ll be for me and those I know who have suffered with this fucking horrible disease. They get that. I know these girls, who are such great friends to my sister AND my sister herself, would support me no end if I actually did it.

Lauren even told me she would be there to say how beautiful I looked and that it was barely noticeable even though we would both know she was lying. But I also knew as I glanced around the room at the piles and piles of beautiful long hair that these were never the people to affirm my decision for me. No one can do that. Like wearing flats to a fashion show or flying interstate just to attend. I’m the boss of me and while I love to talk about it. I’ll make the final decision.

I always do. Do you?

Like Liv says, “you’re not the boss of me”.

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