The Reading Of #badboob As Read By Yours Truly

Entry 1 – My story and shit

I’ve wrestled with the idea to verbally retell my journey with breast cancer and I know my word will reach wide and far. For anyone feeling hopeless/helpless; I am here for you.

No one should go through life alone. Especially breast cancer and all the gnarly shit that accompanies the beast that invaded your breast, mind and soul. It’s hard to climb back up.

#badboob – Entry 1 – My Story And Shit

Life is so fucked up already with so many goddamned obstacles and shit. We need to be okay with speaking up for ourselves. Advocate for our own beliefs and morals. Then help other causes.

Hell, I’m still climbing today.

Whatever Is Truly Alive Must Die…

Look at the flowers, only plastic flowers never die.

Anthony de Mello

Fucking Anthony, how did you know these things for I have been watering a plastic plant for nearly two years now.

Ahem, ah yes, so where to begin this silly sorted tale of plant disguiser full of fuckery.

Just about two years ago, #MothersDay, I received this darling succulent inside a glazed dragonfly ceramic pottery. The plant’s expertly arranged tiny pebbles protected the base and prevented root growth and stunting it;s growth —-> or so I thought.

You see, I’ve been watering this lil guy, moving it from sunny locale to sunny locale. I protected this motherfucker from cold, frosty windows. Gave this bitch water, when I thought it was thirsty. Fuck me dead, did read I this plant’s signs wrong or what?

See, it’s all nice and green and unassuming and shit. It’s a succulent. We only feed those fuckers once a week, no? Am I not wrong here? Watering so little, I presumed I was doing an absofuckinlutely amazing job with this plant. I mean, it’s almost two years old and not one yellow leaf.

Fuck yeah.

Finally house planting right and shit.

Looks like the real goddamned deal and shit

But no, oh no. Was I wrong. So, I was my usual clumsy self and knocked this sweet baby off the window sill, just about two weeks ago. Now, I was totally feeling the heat to get this bitch in another pot and fast. So today, 4/22/20, I went to repot this little guy after unsuccessfully being able to reassemble the ceramic.

That is when I discovered this fucker’s true identity. As mentioned, it was secured by tiny pebbles and some foam below. Foam still damp. Whew, thank fuck; it’s not dead yet.

So I began to assemble small rocks into a lovely planter, when the little green stick fucker moved. Odd, I think. So I begin to wiggle the green stick, taking great care as to not disrupt the sensitive roots. Uhm….what? Fake? Tries to bite leaves…goddamned plastic.

For a long ass time, I sat dumbfounded at this plastic plant whom I thought was real for nearly two years…two fucking years.

Couldn’t wait to tell Mr. Badboob this revelation. As this is typical ‘Tara’ shit, but this is ‘Tara’ed’ to a whole new level. He said he knew cause he and lil badboob bought it for me. They spent a lot of time picking it out for me. So I then asked him why he didn’t say anything when I kept watering and letting it play with the sun? Never having seen me water it and me moving shit around is my MO he replied, so thought nothing off from that behavior.

Oh sweet mother Mary of fuck.

I attest to the truth and validity of this story. I do know another woman just shared her story as well. I actually told Mr. Badboob about it earlier in the week. What lolz where had. Now I’m lol’ing all over myself.

Can You Face Some Unpleasant Truths?

You’ve been duped. The fountain thing does not work

The tooth fairy – fake

Easter Bunny – imaginative fuckery

Santa – made the fuck up

That fucking sneaky ass leprechaun – all fictitious shit of someone’s goddamned brilliant/sadistic mind.

The bible – a gruesome bedtime story

Your brainholes have brainwashed. Don’t take offense, my have as well. Trying to reign that in and recognize areas in which are brains eye is trained to something other than what’s in direct line of vision.

How many commercial jingles can you sing, tv theme shows, movie quotes – yup all brainwashing. It’s not all necessarily bad, mind ya; just calling it what it is.

Puppies die.

Fish get flushed.

Children cry. Momma’s love. Daddy’s hug – Should be reality for ALL, it’s not

Children cry. Momma’s yell. Daddy’s hit – Sadly, this is more the norm

Children mustn’t live in fear. Children mustn’t live hungry. Children must laugh. Children must be seen and heard. Children must grow.

I’d know since I was a teen that I wanted to work with kids in some capacity when I got older. Never saw myself as a teacher. I’ve always been one to walk on the opposite side of the hall, NEVER in formation with other; nope. Was not an anyone other than an ugly and a poor in school. I always knew everyone should have someone, but since I din’t have anyone – graduating high school while living on my own and working two jobs, no parents. Orphaned at 17. Left to live on my own devices.

So, I knew everyone should have someone. And I knew I could be that someone to a future student. And that’s how I became the time out coordinator and shit at an elementary school. Those were the quote bad kids. Nope, those kids were just as good as any pretty. But unfortunately adults/teachers are just as bad at prejudicing against the uglies too. So sad. Think where I’d be today, had I been a pretty. But I digress and know I’m just in this blood and bones vessel temporarily.

So I get the ‘bad’ kids and we work on character education and shit. Playing games, talking about feelings. Good stuff. These kids were awesome. They just had a different learning style. These kids loved the fuck outta me too. I was firm, but supportive, offering that sideways hugs at every meeting. At the end of the week, providing they watched their P’s and goddamned Q’s; they visit my class — for their weekly reward!?!?!? How awesome, right?

As my older boys began their education, I became most vested in the children, especially the BED and EC’s. SO much fun. SO much learning ad potential. And then, I’d yell and scream at my own sons, before heading to school in the mornings to be mean Mrs. Blahblah. Talk about guilt. Hell, my oldest are 24 & 25 and the mom guilt still keeps me up at night – even tho both live on their own, etc, etc…Mom Guilt is real af and it should be recognized.

So, while you’re here, on earth, in your earth body, I ask that you be kind to each other. To be kind to yourselves. Be kind to your kid/kids. Be kind to your spouse.

Just fucking be kind fucksticks.

There may be an ever after, but we all know it’s rarely happy.

Debbie, Didi, Eddy…..So What Fucking Whore Of Satan’s Asshole’re

Bringing home tonight? Hmm….A fucking Eddy. Goddamned it. Goddamned her. Goddamned them all.

All the fucking same. Come in late night, early night, noonthirty drunk and still thirsty af. Ya fucking fucker you.

No, I wouldn’t say I am angry [to those you thinking that, I see you]. I just am a poor. Poor at that nurturing, founding love that infants are supposed to receive. I’m over being held emotionally paralyzed by the trauma that occurred. hat’s it, just being. Just surviving the bullshit of the evening. The next day, going to school like a normal.

Great. Fucking Eddy has a goddamned kid. And they’ve both fucking moved in since the goddamned weekend. Mind you, it’s only been three days, as today’s just Wednesday and there’s a skank is in the kitchen. And there’s skank luggage on the floor – Skanks are like fleas, once you see your first one at your residence, it take months and months of eradication – Happy, happy, joy. And how old is this crowned whore of Country Cousin [of Lizard Lick, NC fame]? Ah, much older than me, that’s good. Let’s see how long this’ll last.

Almost two weeks.

You fuckers lasted almost two weeks before you began throwing and breaking shit. The next day going to school like a normal.

During that 12 day break-in period, I did get my only birthday present that year. My 16th. I hear-tell grand stories of a Sweet 16th….so, my only gift that year was a carton of cigarettes. I shit you not. I have no reason to lie nor any desire to fucker up my brainholes with more ubiquitous noise in the ub form of words. I like my brain to be a nice big blank canvas, with happy clouds and soft grass. Okay, I got two gifts the day I turned 16 in October. A carton of [stolen from the gas station] cigarettes from a 2 week old whore in the home and a helium balloon from the principal at SSS. Of which, I promptly carried the bday balloon to the courtyard and we huffed the helium. Passing the balloon, cigarettes and Boone’s Farm between classes. Now that was a birthday to be remembered.

I’ve been a parent for 25 years. I know it’s hard af. But it’s like you didn’t even try and shit. Or did you? Was that your best?….It couldn’t Even on my worst parenting day, ever…I could never imagine subjecting my sons to the shit you made me witness. No wonder you died in a pile of your own shit.

TBT – I’m Ready To Be Over My Emotion Sickness

It’s no secret my life’s been tough. And yet I persist. I’ve known my purpose is of something greater than a mere mortal. This much I know is true. From birth to fucking 46. But here I am.

Here we are. All of us. On the brink of fuckity fuckered shit will rain down upon us when it’s said and done and neatly written about in our history books. Grab the umbrella kids, it’s going to get messier here.

Switching gears here…

I’ve got some fanfuckintastic news folks — There is NO evidence of metastatic cancer in my body, atm!!! Can I get a ‘fuck yeah’? Another scan in six months to follow up on a concerting spot, but all good. Thank you Daisy Hill Puppy Farm. For real. I just knew with the amount of pain I suffered daily, it must be cancer. That coupled with the fact I’ve not taken the recommended Tamoxifen for the past four and half years. I just have shitty ass bones. Luckily, I’ve just met with a pain management doctor, insurance review fuckers [ruled in my favor], a psychiatrist [both the TSD’s – Current and Past], a neurologist, dermatologist and ENT are rolling up soon and yaaaaaaaas a breast cancer/reconstruction plastic surgeon in the morning, Wednesday 4/15.

These 5 pound, poisoning my body, way too big fuckers will be coming out — Soon, I hope. It’s medically necessary at this point, the explant surgery that is. I’ll be speaking to her about the DIEP flap method as my stomach looks like a goddamned flying squirrel when viewed in the right angle. Seriously, so thrilled for this virtual-video appointment!!

And finally

A common question everyone is asking each other rn is ‘how are you coping’ and shit with isolation and shit. TBT, my life has not changed. Truly. I’ve been a Virtual Administrative Assistant for six years [diagnosed and worked thru cancer, like a rockstar] and this year my nine year old has been attending the NCVA – North Carolina Virtual Academy – enrolled in the 3rd grade. I shit you not, he is still in school. Well not this week, spring break. But, his education has’t been impacted due to Covid19. His books are home, his classes are video’ed. I’ve been utilizing the grocery store to go/pick up fucker for months now. I’m extremely lucky in these regards. This much I know as well.

We are working on pillows for comfort. If you have an old, beloved tshirt, send it my way – I’ll make ya a snazzy ass pillow.

Taking You Guys On A Trip Down Mindfuck Lane…

I’ve found and saved some amazing af photographs of New York front the 1800’s and shit. Incredible AF to look at – your brainholes will be smiling. And if you’re anything like me, which chances are you are a beautiful fucker [haaha — beautiful fucker, so not hurtful. Quite contrary, in fact], you’ll get lost in some of these.

Fucking, have you ever, in your lifetime imagined what sweet ole #NYC looked like before the concrete weeds. I have too many times. Especially having grown up in Jersey and having the city just a couple hours away. We’d take ferries to visit the Statue of Liberty. At the time, I had no idea my great grandmother, Nammie, who was still alive until my early teens, had actually entered Ellis Island via ship with her parents and two siblings – one of whom lived to be 99 years of age, having just passed a few years ago. So, at age three or so [idk, I’m so bad with facts and shit]. I’ll look at dates. Do my calculations and forget what the fuck I’m working on. Chemo Brain or Tara brain. This is all Tara brain compounded by chemo and the drugs taken during treatment. So Nammie and her family, escape Budapest in the late 1910’s. They settled and primarily stayed in Bernardsville, NJ. Another side note – You used to be able to see the Twin Towers from a road in Bernardsville, called Jacobs Ladder – google that badboy.

If you have a fascination for pictures of cities and shit in the 19th century, please drop a line and share your photos.

So, without further rambling and shit – fuck me dead, tara, ADD much – uh, yeah man. So much ADD’s. All of them. And CTSD – Current Traumatic Stress Disorder. Science. Bitch.

Legend has it, or I shall tell it as…When the Dutch people of the time had to take a mean ass liquor, gamey animal flesh, goddamned berry churning the intestines dump, eat and eventually pitching what would pass as shelter in 1654 [fucking 1654], they named their quaint lil path ‘Bouwerij’, the Dutch word for path, because it connected cattle farms to the outskirts (what is today) to Wall Street. <— And sidenote this foot food was to go below the Bowery ‘Neighborhood’ picture, but my dumb ass can’t figure how to complete this task on my device. And, fucking hell, I see some of my pictures don’t have captions and I left some off. Edits are afoot….

Apologies, It’s Been Awhile Since I Offered Valuable Advice

I’d like to remind you all about a few effortless activities that you can incorporate into your new daily routine to ensure your needs are met during this time of world turmoil; as demonstrated by Kiki.

Drink water
All the waters
nummy nutrients
It’s so tasty 😋
Take your time chewing, to avoid indigestion.
You can haz the grasses
All the greens 🥬
Curl up with a good book
Lay purrfectly still and breathe
All the sleeps, right meow
Lay down already and rest

Happy Caturday