I have Christmas with my sister and mom tomorrow morning and I have to get to bed. I type like shit enough without having to go fast.
My boob test came back 5 masses – all cysts. I’m happy. I have a boobie mri in June just to make sure none of them are growing. But I’m happy.
I go on the 8th to get this fucking thing cut off my face. Did I mention that? I have basal cell on my fucking face. Right under my eye? Did I? I can’t remember anymore. But I do, and I want it gone. Serious or not. She said I’ll have a black eye for awhile. Guess she’s gonna fuck me up. That’s ok little lady – do whatcha gotta do.
And I had a genetics test done because my sister tested positive for some gene. It multiplies cancer risk by doubling it. Sweet. Emphasis on colon, breast, and ovarian cancer. I might frown on removing my breasts on a what if, but I don’t seem to mind the idea of getting rid of these fucking ovaries. I don’t need em and my aunt died from that shit. I know I’ll turn into a man but I can handle that. She did say that if I cut off my boobs they will reconstruct them. That gave me pause. Am I shallow? I am huh? That’s ok. You can say I’m shallow if you want. But in my defense, my boobs are hideous. Like a wet sock stuck inside a dry sock? Yes, you could probably smack someone upside the head with the ball of my boob. Sexy. I pour right out of a regular bra – right out the bottom. Like silly slime. So attractive. So I buy VS padded bras that bring me up to where I should be.
Uh oh – time is up. Sweet dreams. Merry CHristmas. Safe New Year.