Hey Judgy McJudgerson’s

When I first started blogging about the invasive ductile carcinoma that attacked me aka as #badboob, I knew I had to get these thoughts out of my head. I invited you into my brain for a mo….unfiltered & uncensored & terribly typo’ed…. [ha, I have censored myself a bit, if you can believe that]  Those who choose to read, without judgment, thank you. I also knew I wanted others to get in touch with themselves and possibly detect cancer while still in its infancy stage such as I did. I am overjoyed at the amount of messages I’ve received regarding your new routine. This to me makes my  blog, worth while. Because I fucking love each and everyone one of you that has reached out….except you Judgy McJudgerson’s, I do love you too. You need to keep yourself in check. Mmkay?

You may not be used to my language or mannerisms. Nor am I used to yours. Your words and actions may not be for me. You conduct your life how you feel best. I conduct my life how I feel best. You may read something here and ask yourself what the fuck is she talking about or I can’t believe she wrote that…..Again, my story in my words….I am telling you how cancer has fucked my world….hard….Those who wish to send sentiment, please consider your words. As I know you mean well, but sometimes sound like a jackass.~~~If you don’t know what to say, just hug me. [I’m emotional enough as it is]…. That’s all I want. No empty bullshit words….An ear…. A shoulder…. A hand…. A friend.

But telling someone with cancer [or any medical issue, physical or mental] to not worry about it….honestly you may fuck off….Your words are insulting—think before you speak.  I don’t claim to be better. Just speaking my mind. I realize writing & inviting you guys to read about my #badboob, I’m leaving myself open to ridicule and bullshit–don’t read this blog then. Simple.

Knowing my tits will be sliced off my body in two days is traumatic as fuck. Goddammit cancer. Fucker taking my tits….not my life or love of life. I will still be the Tara you all love or loathe….with some great cancer-free boobs and a penchant for the word fuck.

Neither one is better
I am me
You are you
We are living life
Trying to make it from one fucking day to the next.

Our game plan has been developed on the 22nd. It’s supposed to be raining Tuesday morning. The five of us will make breakfast, but not I as I need not eat past midnight….blah, blah. We’ll try to be as festive as possible. Santa will be here in five days after all! That’s a lot of goddamned excitement to contain & not be affected by! Silly smile and games.We’ll play Candyland and Go Fish. I’ll hug and kiss my boys. Tell them I’m going to be fine–because I will. Tell them I love them. I’ll seem them later that evening.

 

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