Posted in Family, Humor, Life, life lessons, Satire

A Tragic Breast Story

The story of when my Aunt’s nipple fell off

My family has extremely bad luck, but most of us have two nipples

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I never thought I’d write about my Aunt’s nipple. At least, I’m not writing about my Uncle’s testicles. Yet.

This story has been passed around more than my high school best friend since this incident happened. People at bars have heard it. People at church have heard about it. I created a children’s book about it and read about it to my son’s kindergarten class. OK, well, maybe I didn’t do that. Yet.

I will preface this story by saying that my Aunt, my Mother’s sister, was very sexually active back in her day. She continued to be sexually active long after her day passed, also.

Breast cancer runs in our family and has caused many tragic, untimely deaths. So, in an effort to be proactive against cancer, my Aunt had a double mastectomy. She went ahead and had reconstructive surgery soon after and had those puppies lifted and enhanced.

Fast forward a while later. This is where things get foggy. I’m not sure if it was eight weeks or eight years, but she had taken her bra off during the night and her nipple fell out of her bra onto the floor. She reportedly yelled, “Shit!” out loud.

Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I can probably say that I wouldn’t have gathered my nipple up, set it aside for the night, and worried about it the next day.

Maybe she didn’t worry about it the next day despite what she says. Because to date she still does not have a nipple on one side. Yolo, I guess.

I may be the black sheep, but there’s a herd of us in my family.




Posted in Life

Aging Is Terrible, But Amazing

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Being a vibrant, head-turning woman is almost a memory for me. I have since faded, turning by shades into a middle aged woman with affinities for animals and gardening. The smaller my beauty becomes, the larger my mouth and personality gets. With something lost, something is gained elsewhere I suppose.

I envision myself at 80 and the images my mind creates are all vastly different from the next, causing my emotions to fluctuate between fear, sadness, pride, and contentment. In one vision, I am eighty with pink hair. I yell at whomever I decide deserves it and take no shit from anyone. I hang out with my other old friends all the time and am spoiled by my children and grandchildren.

Another vision of 80 me is quite different. I am sitting in a one bedroom apartment that is subsidized. I have almost no food, no visitors, and nineteen cats. Every day is the same as the one before. I am just waiting to die.

I don’t know what steps to take to get to the vision I want to live out, but I’m going to start with continuing to live f&*k-free. I will act silly, laugh when I want to, and continue not to conform to other’s ways of living. I am original, as we all are, and have no desire to fit the mold.

This is my plan. At 65, I will go ahead and get those really cool glasses holders that dangle and start dressing like Stevie Nicks. But a redneck version, obviously. I will be way too cool to ever join the Red Hat society. I will start my own spinoff called the Turquoise Sombrero Society.

At 75, I will start dying my hair red or purple. I will fight every instinct in my body to go get a curling set at the beauty salon on a weekly basis. Maybe then I will set the stage for the cool old me to come out. haphazard as it may be, at least I have a plan of action.

I am trying to focus on the present instead of longing for the past. With age, I have developed into the person I have always wanted to be. I hope that eventually I have grandchildren and I hope I get to see my children walk down the aisle or across the stage of their choosing. Unfortunately, some family and friends that I thought cared have proven otherwise. I am learning to let go of the bad to make room for better to find it’s way into my life.

One thing I do know is that life is short and I intend to savor the rest of mine.