"I didn't go into therapy because I wanted to be angry. I was afraid that if I wasn't angry anymore, somehow that would make this whole experience all right-and nothing was all right."


This sentiment is a far cry from what the woman who sits in front of me in oversized sunglasses, a floppy black sun-hat, and a royal blue mini-dress that gave her one too many Marilyn Monroe flasher moments in the breeze on the way to meet me seems to radiate now.

The woman who I see is tickled to tell me that people at the hospital thought she was a rock star when she was wheeled from recovery after her double mastectomy (mostly due to a pink dye job done the weekend before).

She was ballsy enough to do a hot topless photo shoot following her second reconstructive surgery, and says "thank you" so emphatically to strangers in day-to-day situations that one imagines she would dole out huge hugs to accompany the words if it were socially acceptable, because she is that grateful for whatever has just been done for her.

She commands attention, but not in a way that she sucks all of the oxygen out of a room or might flirt a little too much with your boyfriend if you weren't looking. She just has an energy that draws you in - a sensuality and vulnerability, despite her once stormy anger and the armor she developed to fight the sickness that threatened to take her down.

Jessica was twenty-five years old when she found a rock in her breast - not an amorphous, "now you feel it, now you don't" kind of lump, but a bona fide solid foreign object. After a biopsy that came back negative, and a relatively minimally invasive procedure where her surgeon cut the mass into pieces to remove it (in order to diminish any potential scarring), she found out that the initial diagnosis had been wrong. She had cancer.

During a conversation with her doctor on her cell phone, in a parking lot, following her step-grandfather's funeral, she was told that the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes. As she puts it, "It was a banner summer in my family."

Although she had a strong support system in her family and friends, life in the romantic arena wasn't quite as simple. Her longtime boyfriend, who was with her at the time of her diagnosis, left her during chemo because "he couldn't handle it." That same week, in a cruel twist of fate, her hair fell out and she got chicken pox.

The next man in her life was very accepting of her condition while she was in treatment, but their nine month relationship fell apart once she had finished chemo. Unable to bounce back and be "fixed," Jessica didn't feel any better on the inside, and neither one of them was happy with the weight gain that also altered her appearance on the outside. (Shockingly, the "heavier" Jessica is the sexy lady shown in the photos accompanying this article.)

Ultimately, it was her anger that undid their union.

"I was pissed at him for being beautiful and successful, and living the life that I wanted to live. I felt like I had been robbed of that opportunity. I really felt like the world owed me.

That attitude isn't gonna get you very far, but you have to go through it. It's part of the process."

After weathering that break-up and being confronted by a close friend about her negative mindset, Jessica had her epiphany.

"I had this dream that I was out with my friends and I was going home. I'm driving down Sunset (Boulevard) and this car in front of me is driving all over the lane. Sure enough, he wrecks the car right in front of me and I slam into him. I totally freaked out. I get out. They're ok, I'm ok. The cops come, everyone's all right.

All the sudden, the other car's gone, the cops are gone, and it's not Sunset anymore. It's this flat road like in Kansas and the sun's coming up. I'm standing there and my car's still there-my bright red, beautiful car that I worked so hard for, and it's a wreck, there's no saving her.

I turned around and I looked down this very straight, very flat road, and I went, 'all right, I gotta start walking.' I had to leave this thing that I thought I needed behind, and as I'm walking down this road, I just felt this sense of peace and that I was free of all the things that I had been carrying around with me. I was like, 'that's it - I'm ready not to be angry anymore.' It was time to find a new car. I loved that one, she was beautiful, but I couldn't resurrect it. It's funny because right after that I had what I would consider my first real dating experience."

Three weeks into that romance, they mutually agreed that it wasn't the time for them to be together. The result of life circumstances that had nothing to do with her illness, they realized that neither one of them was ready to be in a serious relationship and parted ways. But the sense that she's coming back into her own - that's she's ready for a new adventure - is like a beacon for anyone who's trying to navigate the post-cancer experience.

"I feel again like I did a couple of years ago, that I'm standing on a precipice. Do I turn and walk away and see what that path gives me, or do I leap out into the infinite and hope that I land on something soft or something hard, or even land at all, or do I learn to fly, or... "

Jessica doesn't allow her scars, be they physical or emotional, to hinder her perception of what is possible for her future. While recognizing that she has options is crucial to moving forward, it is her willingness to explore them that defines who she is now.

She has finally posted her portfolio on her website to broaden her exposure and opportunities in the design world. She is currently contemplating a move from Los Angeles to London, in spite of the inevitable insurance hassles. And, she has chosen to approach her love life with unrestrained honesty. Not too long ago, she told a practical stranger / prospective boyfriend about her cancer. His response? He doesn't mind because he's an "ass man."

The girl is definitely all right.

For more Jessica visit
http://www.weetiny.com/

For more from Dave Naz
http://www.davenaz.com/