The writer, Stephanie Green, a spicy Jewish girl with a bad case of cancer who wasn't afraid to tell how she felt or show off her scars. I found this blog through the highway, byway and a side street of the internet. Six degrees of separation as we use to know it, is no more.
When I started reading, I had no idea she had breast cancer. Then I read more, looked further back. I was a voyeur into a woman's past and was interested in her future. An upper class broad living in Miami, a published writer and author. A woman who knew her way around Sak's and Barney's, but could still fling the F'word around like a sailor writing his memoirs.
She became sick with cancer treatments. Her boobies as she called them had already been taken by a double mastectomy at the age of 32. She had new boobies installed and they looked fab. This I had found out by reading more.
When she became to weak to continue her daily blog she recommended that readers hook up with her on Facebook. So I did. Only this was more personnel. After time went on, more treatments, puking, family friends helping, the death of her beloved Wally Dog. Pictures of her crying while holding him, before he was put down.
I felt more like an intruder. Should I really be reading this, am I still welcome? A complete stranger from Alaska, looking through the window at a person in pain. Suffering, but still writing some really funny stuff.
Wally taking a poop in the middle of The Drake Hotel lobby had me laughing so hard I had tears. Buying Chanel rainboots in New York, who new they even made them? Or talking to her doctors while high on Xanax and Marinol. She left nothing out and often times nothing to the imagination.
On occasion she would comment on my Facebook. Usually towards one of my posts relating to something absurd I had seen or how someone could possibly wear that shade of yellow with that bright a lilac and what the hell happened to Isaac Mizrahi? Target,really?
So, I kept reading. I was a follower of someone I would probably never meet. But still I read. And, I cried when her dog died and laughed when she wrote about the Tranny at the Quick Mart and Jersey Shore taking over her building last summer for filming.
She became a part of my life. A daily cyber interaction, that was mostly one sided. But still viable.
I didn't know her. I had never met her. I will miss her.
Stephanie Green's cancer came back at age 35. Again. This time she died. 01/09/2011
Dishalicious was one of the first blogs I followed (way back in 2005). Through that effort, I came to randomly email with Stephanie. She shed some light on online writing classes. I bought one of her Tod's bags. She always insisted I tell a shopkeeper in Sarasota that Stephanie Green sent me.
ReplyDeleteA few years ago I ended up in Bal Harbor with my sister for a quick weekend away. I never thought to reach out to Stephanie, though she reprimanded me when she got word I had been at her favorite mall and hadn't invited her to join me. "I'm breaking up with you if you ever do that again," was her threat. It still makes me smile.
Simply put, she was a star.
You are right, she was a star, well said.
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