Check Out Our New Blog! "Stay Alive!" By CiCi Kitten! Presented by Crossdresser.com The Crossdressing SUPERSTORE!

Twenty-six years ago this month, I found out I had cancer. I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Disease in December of 1983 and I had to undergo a year of chemotherapy. (Two treatments a month for 12 months.) I did my final treatment on December 19th, 1984. Twenty-five years ago. So this is kind of an anniversary for me. I always hesitate to say I’m cured, because cancer has a way of coming back when you least expect it. But I can say that I’ve been cancer-free for twenty-five years. And to say that a lot has happened in my life in those 25 years is kind of an understatement.

I earned my Master’s Degree. I moved to L.A. I sold a few screenplays. I married the coolest girl in the world. And I tried (I really did try!) to help raise my stepson. I’ve made some money, and I’ve also gone bankrupt. I drove cross-country a couple of times. I’ve snorkeled in the Keys, hiked in the Sierras, and sunned myself on the beaches of Maui. I’ve had lunch with Hollywood stars and drinks with pirates. I’ve met three billionaires. The cool girl left me. Then the cool girl came back. And, in the end, the cool girl stayed. It’s been quite a ride - certainly worth the year of chemo I had to endure. A mildly adventurous little life, but for the most part, fairly normal by most standards.

And then I met CiCi. And started with crossdresser clothing. And that’s when everything kinda went off the rails. In a good way. I think. It probably sounds weird to hear me talk about CiCi in the third person. But that’s how I often think of her. She’s a part of me, I don’t deny that. But she’s also my creation. The embodiment of so many of my hopes and dreams and fantasies in crossdressing lingerie and wishes. If I had died back in ’83, I never would have gotten to know CiCi. And that would have been a real shame.

Actually it would have been more than a shame. Because it would have meant I had lived my life without really living the life I wanted to live. (Did that make any sense?) So how are you doing? How’s your life going as we head into the second decade of the new century? Are you getting any closer to living the life you want to live? If not, believe me, I understand. This stuff is hard. But I have to say… the rewards are pretty awesome. For me, it’s good to be CiCi... even on a semi regular basis. And it’s really good to be alive.

Back in 1984, when I was going through chemo, there was a popular song by Big Country that really struck me. The song was, “In a Big Country,” and the chorus kept repeating the two-word phrase, “Stay alive.” I was pretty young back then and, like a lot of young people, I looked to pop songs and silly sitcoms for wisdom and inspiration. Actually, twenty-five years later I still look to pop songs and silly sitcoms for wisdom and inspiration. (Not a lot of progress there.) But it helped. I loved that song and the jangly way the band played their guitars to make them sound like bagpipes. Even now it makes me smile.

I was sad to learn that the song’s composer, and the creative force behind Big Country, Stuart Adamson, took his own life in 2001. I wasn’t a huge Big Country fan, but I was pretty torn up when I heard that. Because that song had meant so much to me. That lyric had meant so much to me. It was so simple. It was so pure. “Stay alive.”

So I was sad when I learned that Stuart hadn’t taken his own advice. (BTW… a few years later, when tragedy struck New Orleans, the bands Green Day and U2 recorded a charity single to raise money for the flood victims. The song they chose was a song Stuart had written for his first band, The Skids. “The Saints are Coming.” Of course, by then, sadly, Stuart was no longer around to hear it.)

So why am I dragging this all up now? Why am I sharing this on a tg website? What meaning do I want my sisters-in-arms to take from all this?

I honestly don’t know. Sometimes I sit down to write and the words flow and meaning comes. And sometimes it doesn’t. All I know is that once again the holidays are upon us. And, once again, I’m happy to be around to celebrate them.

Back in ’84, I attended cancer support group meetings pretty regularly. My fellow patients did a lot to help me through that difficult year. But, unfortunately, most of them weren’t as lucky as me. Most of them are long gone now. Distant memories. But I like to take a moment at this time of year to think of them, to remember their many gifts to me, and to toast their memory.

And then, once I’ve toasted the past, I like to toast my new friends. My present. Because, well, let’s face it. The past is gone. And tomorrow is never promised. But today? Today is motherfucking mine.

So here’s to today. Here’s to friends past and present. And here’s to you, Stuart Adamson, wherever you are. It’s been twenty-five years since my last chemo treatment, and, after all this time, I’m still not expecting to grow flowers in the desert. But I can live and breathe. And the see the sun in wintertime.
Stay alive.


Be smart. Be safe. Be sexy!
xoxo,
CiCi