Merry Christmas from me to you...

This year, we're not sending out Christmas cards.  We're not doing our annual "The Schneider Family in Review" photo book for the grandparents/great-grandparents.  There are two main reasons: 1) I simply don't have the energy to do it and 2) I really don't want to look back at this year as "The Schneider Family - Cancer Edition".  It's not like this year isn't worth remembering or that I don't want to celebrate kicking cancer's bully ass, but I don't really need a pictorial.  Not as it relates to spreading goodwill and good cheer, anyway.  Uh, no.

I'm definitely more reflective this year than I may have been in years past.  I have a new sense of appreciation for my life and the people in it that mean so much.  I've crossed paths with so many amazing people this year that I wouldn't have met otherwise.  I refuse to thank cancer for anything, but I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the strong bonds I've formed as a result of it.

I'm not one to make resolutions - primarily because I suck at sticking to anything for longer than about three weeks.  Now, though, I resolve to be kinder.  Period.  I'll be more thoughtful and considerate of others. I'll reach out more often.  If someone is on my mind, I'll say hello.  I have a fierce temper and a sharp tongue and I genuinely don't anticipate either of those things to go away, but I will do my very best to try to curb the venom.  (Unless someone is being a royal douche wagon, and then all bets are off.  Sorry...)  

These are a few of the other things I'm aiming for in the coming year:

I will love Frankenboob, even if he's misshapen and feels weird.

I will love my salt and pepper hair, even if it means that I may need to tell people that I'm 15 years older so that they can say, "Damn! You look great for your age!"

I will love my extra curves and rolls and "fluffiness", even if I feel like Violet Beauregarde. (Yes, from the original.  Not that Johnny Depp debacle.)

I will love my friends and family, even if they make me bat shit crazy.  (It just means we need a time out, that's all.)

I will love people that hug me too hard, even if I'm sure that Frankenboob might pop.

I will love saying "fuck", even if it offends people.  (Wait.  I do that anyway.)

I will love myself, even when I feel like the "good" days are gone.

I will love my daughters unconditionally forever and ever, even if they make fools of themselves sometimes.

I will love my husband unconditionally forever and ever, even if he grimaces when I drive.  Every. Time.

I will love all of you, even if I don't know many of you.  You've given me an outlet and helped me keep my head on straight.  

From the bottom of my fatigued little heart, I wish you all the happiest of holiday seasons.  Whatever you celebrate, or if you celebrate nothing at all... Peace, love and all that good shit.

Xoxoxo,

Nancy

BoobiesBoobiesBoobiesBoobies

I need to get a little something off my chest. Heh, heh. No pun intended.

For those of you that know me, as well as those that may only know me through this blog, you know that I'm the kind of person that tells it like it is and rarely minces words. I try not to be insensitive or blatantly hurtful but crass and offensive otherwise? Yes, that's me. Fuck, yeah. Especially on my own blog.

I use many unconventional and, well, probably un-PC terms all the time. Boobies, frankenboob, hoo-hah, junk (among other words) are all part of my regular vernacular and I make zero apologizes for that. This is me. No false pretenses.

What makes me cock an eyebrow (a real, live one!) is when people get upset over the usage of the word "boobie" as it relates to breast cancer. Breast cancer is one of the most horrible things I've ever experienced. It's as serious, somber and stoic as it is ridiculous, laughable and absurd. Yes, it's life and death and that little nugget is not lost on me. My sense of humor - as warped and fucked up as it may be sometimes - is what has kept me sane during this suck-fest.

I don't begrudge people for dealing with this in whatever way that they need to. I've read countless blogs from women similarly impacted. All have different tones and ways of expressing themselves. Some are silly and frank while others are serious and pensive or very religious. Each blog is interesting to me and I haven't found a single one that has made me turn my nose up because of the way they've described their experiences.

For others to blindly assume that I'm attempting to be cute or blasé about my own experience simply because of language I choose to use is surprising, strangely. I'm as impacted as anyone else whether I call it a breast or a boobie or a tit or a hooter or a funbag. A part of my body was still full of cancer and was cut off. What more is there to debate?

Cancer isn't fun. Nothing about being a science project with crazy fear of the unknown is fun. Have I done fun or admittedly obnoxious things to get through it? You bet your ass, I have. I've talked about my Debbie Downer moments several times. It happens. News flash: I'm not always rainbows and butterflies and shit but either way, I'm going to be as honest as I can be.

I may have fought this beast and am bigger than what tried to kill me but I am NOT above third grade humor when the mood strikes... Especially when dealing with my boobies.

I feel better now. Thanks for listening. Xoxo