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