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    Chemo in Heels: A Diva's Irreverent Journey Through Breast Cancer, One Stiletto at a Time
    Chemo in Heels: A Diva's Irreverent Journey Through Breast Cancer, One Stiletto at a Time
    Chemo in Heels: A Diva's Irreverent Journey Through Breast Cancer, One Stiletto at a Time
    Ebook57 pages33 minutes

    Chemo in Heels: A Diva's Irreverent Journey Through Breast Cancer, One Stiletto at a Time

    By Xlibris US

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    About this ebook

    Lisa Grimaldi resides in Hershey, Pennsylvania where she spends her days gracefully avoiding the dietary pitfalls of living surrounded by all things chocolate. Besides almost surviving breast cancer, she has also survived her bad hair of the 80's, the Carter years and the invention of Crocs. (Although, she did have to seek professional help for the Croc invasion.) Ms. Grimaldi is the mother of four: A 23 year old very quiet law student, a 20 year old college sophomore majoring in environmental science who finds his mother's shoe collection an immense waste of natural resources, but loves her nonetheless, a 39 year old husband who thinks she spends too much money on shoes, b ut never argues when she wears his favorite pairs, and a 5 year old Yorkie who just plain loves her and spends many days on her lap writing in her closet.
    Chemo in Heels is Ms. Grimaldi's first publication.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXlibris US
    Release dateAug 26, 2014
    ISBN9781477152072
    Chemo in Heels: A Diva's Irreverent Journey Through Breast Cancer, One Stiletto at a Time

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      Book preview

      Chemo in Heels - Xlibris US

      Copyright © 2014 by Lisa Grimaldi.

      Library of Congress Control Number:         2012913828

      ISBN:          Hardcover             978-1-4771-5206-5

                          Softcover              978-1-4771-5205-8

                          Ebook                   978-1-4771-5207-2

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

      Xlibris Corporation

      1-888-795-4274

      www.Xlibris.com

      Contents

      1 Barbie Never Said There Would Be Days Like This!

      2 Vortex of Chaos

      3 Has Anyone Told Match.Com about This?

      4 Another Trip around the Sun

      5 TGIF

      6 Air Marshals and My New Career

      7 Bald Is Beautiful and Other Crocks of Shit

      8 Finding My Soul

      9 The Walking Wounded

      10 The Winter of My Discontent

      11 Tarragon or Thyme?

      12 The Prodigal Bald Daughter

      13 Got Toaster Strudels?

      14 Vertical Has Never Felt Better

      15 From under the Hermes Scarf

      For my father who bought me my first pair of heels all those years ago

      Shoes are just a pedestal. What interests me is the power of the woman who wears them.

      —Christian Louboutin

      1

      Barbie Never Said There Would Be Days Like This!

      S omeone needs to redecorate this freaking place—fast! This was the first thought that entered my nervous mind as I walked or, shall I say, was dragged into the unknown horror of my treatment center.

      Not a mere fabric face-lift, mind you, but an entire major overhaul—from carpet to ceiling. This job needs some fabulous Hollywood designer on the scale of, say, Martyn Lawrence-Bullard, who would add sorely needed glamour and pizzazz to this pathetic, depressing place. The chairs are hideous and ugly, made of cheap stiff faux leather. They remind me of the ones I am sure are found in a mental institution. Think The Shining. Yes, Jack Nicholson called; he wants his chairs back! Actually, I would prefer to be in a mental institution right about now; in fact, I should be in one. Who in their right mind comes willingly to be injected with chilly fluid the metric equivalent of twenty jars of Drano that apparently kills every white blood cell I have amassed since birth? I could be shoe shopping instead. Please understand, my brewing anger is not merely reserved for the obvious lack of ambiance but stems from the fact that I have breast cancer, and it pisses me off. Also, you should know that until my recent diagnosis, the day before Thanksgiving (great timing never my strong suit), I rarely said the word pisses, let alone

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