I seem to be saying that a lot recently!
Tonight, after supper I thought that I would broach the subject of "mummy getting her hair cut for charity" with the biggest child.
This did NOT go down well.
Apparently I am not allowed to get my hair cut short, otherwise I won't be mummy any more.
Shit.
Looks like I am going to have to do a LOT of ground work with this one. Maybe choosing my new hairstyle will help?
I haven't read the children "Mummy's Lump" yet, because, well, it's too fucking depressing, but it seems that it might be time.
Shit shit shit.
Sorry for the swearing.
Oh, and we had an impromptu visit from our Vicar today, which was lovely, but somewhat of a shock. It still made me feel a bit like I'm going to die though, which I'm bloody well not, but it reminded me that whilst breast cancer is quite "curable", ish, (85% chance of cure is good, I know), it's still pretty serious. Something I had been trying to forget about.
Bollocks.
Sorry.
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