Tattoos and Proof of My Financial Responsibility (typos and all)

Example Number One:

Yes, I know I’m not supposed to use enumeration when there’s only one example, but why are you quibbling over something so silly?

Anyway, as I was saying,

Example Number One (which I feel is more than adequate, but whatever):

All these young kids spend a fortune these days in time, dollars, and pain to get tattoos which tell their stories on their bodies.

Well, I haven’t spent a dime on such frivolities (don’t you dare take away my magnetic eyelashes, though!)

Why? If you’d ever seen my body, you wouldn’t ask!

Wasn’t it that Vile John Mayer who ditched Poor Jennifer Anniston (anyone with that first name must be an angel!) that crooned “Your Body is a Wonderland?”

Well, my body looks like Hiroshima or Nagasaki circa early post-WW2. For starters, it starts (is that redundant?) with my boobs. Obviously! You can’t get a biopsy, lumpectomy, re-excision surgery, port placement surgery, port removal surgery, 12 infusions of the ball buster known as Taxol, 1 infusion of the other ball buster that goes by Adriamycin, aka “The Red Devil,” 33 radiation whatevers (which they didn’t tell me at the time totally shreds your skin), 3 reconstruction surgeries, a double mastectomy where they took out the old implants and put new ones under my pectoral muscles which later had to be “expanded” to stretch the skin on numerous unpleasant occasions because I was too skinny, and they also had to pull that muscle from back there by my shoulder blade around to the front so I’d have enough skin as well as put in “cadaver shelves” (honestly, I didn’t ask for the details), and then the final surgery 4 months later plus the nipple procedure that didn’t take and then the nipple tattoos…

I’ll be damned! I do so have tattoos!!

Anyway, I kind of forgot where I was going with this one. Write it off to the premature menopause I went through 14 years ago. That can really screw with your brain and bones, so no wonder my short-term memory is so bad, right?

Anyway, I was trying to say that my body is totally destroyed. I’m fully in agreement.

But it’s also totally badass! You could spend hours just counting my scars and hearing the stories behind them. They go all the way back to my age 3.

And I wouldn’t trade them for anything. They’re so fucking gorgeous I can hardly stand it❣️

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