Sunday, December 4, 2011

Best Christmas Ever!

Christmas was never a happy time for me. My husband hated Christmas, and made it impossible to enjoy it when he was around. He was abusive, and forbade me to put up a tree at Christmas. He forbade me to go to church. He forbade me to have any life other than his wife.

It wasn’t until my son Brandon was 10 months old, did I muster enough courage to leave. With a little planning, I was able to escape another beating with enough money to rent a bachelor apartment, purchase a bed and some used furniture from Good Will. It was tough, but when I looked at my son, I realized that I had to get out of that situation, if he is going to have a happy and blissful childhood.

With a little paint, and some creative decorating our apartment was very homey. We were comfortable and safe.

My parents had died years ago, and I didn’t have any siblings to rely on. I knew that I would have to rely on myself, as I have always done. It seemed like a difficult and daunting road ahead of me, especially with Christmas around the corner.

A few days before Christmas while hunting for a job, I was surprised how much in the Christmas spirit I was getting as I walked down the busy streets, watching shoppers and carolers and even Santa. Everyone’s mood was cheerful, wishing each other “Merry Christmas”…”Happy Holidays”…”Seasons Greetings”. The ambiance started to rub off on me, I felt a bit of a spring in my step, and I realized this was Brandon’s first Christmas, and I was going to make it special for him.

Thank God for my new neighbour, who took pity on me, and offered to watch Brandon while I was job hunting, so I took advantage of the time on December 24th and visited Goodwill. I bought a small tree, some lights and an almost new Fisher Price toy for Brandon. I stopped in the grocery store, and picked up a small chicken for our Christmas dinner.

That night, while Brandon slept, I put the lights on the tree, made my own ornaments with popcorn and cranberries, and on the top of the tree I placed a lace angel my mother made for me years ago. I had seen many Christmas trees in my life, at huge department stores and decorating shows, but I had never seen a tree as beautiful as my tree this year!

Christmas morning, Brandon and I went to church. I had never seen him so content, as he sat in his baby seat listening to the choir and the congregation singing Christmas carols.

Later that day, Brandon sat in front of the tree, playing with his new toy, I could smell the chicken cooking and the sound of Christmas carols coming from the radio; it as then I realized that this was my best Christmas ever.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Tale of Two Titties - the end of a SAGa

This has been a long SAGa. It started March 2nd, 2011 and finally ended July 20th! I am going to spare you the details of the issues with infection, abscesses, packing, numerous antibiotics...lets just say the last day that I needed to pack was June 20th. I was booked for the second surgery on July 20th to 'fix' the left tata.

Because of the packing and abscess, there was some deformation of the breast, and to be absolutely honest with you, it looked like a vagina! There was also a large lump which was fat and tissue...medical reason I cannot explain, but it was gross and it was painful...thus the reason I went back in for more surgery.

I love my surgeon. He was very kind, remembered everything you told him...I assume he is really, really smart, this is why he became a Doctor...which would include an amazing memory. He was very handsome, prematurely gray, and rather shy..which stikes me strange considering he is looking at women's breasts all the time.

When I was in the surgical room, while I was being prepped, I told the Surgeon that my breast resembled a vagina. He blushed, and said "well we can't have that can we?" The nurse asked him "have what". He went over to her side of the room, and told her that "she said her breast resembles a (and he whispered this) vagina!" There were 4 of us in the room. I knew my breast looked like a vagina, the Surgeon now knew it looked like a vagina, and now the nurse the only other person that wasn't aware it looked like a vagina was the Anesthetist. Was he whispering because he didn't want the him to know, or did he think he was saying a dirty word, or perhaps he just wanted to keep it a surprise for the Anesthetist when my breast is revealed?

I woke up in recovery, it was a 2 hour surgery for some reason. They paged my husband Mike to come in and keep me company while I tried to wake up. For some reason, I always get jittery when I wake up from the anesthetic, I need to sit up...I feel like I am smothering. I sat up, swinging my legs to the side of the bed when I noticed that there was a man across the room sitting with his wife looking at me with eyes opened wide. It was then that I realized I flashed a complete stranger. I quickly pulled down the hospital gown. I looked over at him and he was moving his head slowly peeking around the curtain to get another look at my junk!

It was very comical to see him peeking over, it almost resembled something you would see on a Looney Tune is also very comical that anyone would want to take a second glance at my junk. Did he like what he saw, or was it curiosity, or was it like a train wreck and you can't look away...anyway I covered myself up with the sheet and he went back behind the curtain.

The surgeon came in to let me know how the surgery went, told me about a drain that I would have to deal with for a few days, and that my breast no longer looked like.....he blushed and stuttered a bit...'a vagina' I filled in the blank....he laughed. Mike just sat there shaking his head, astonished that I would tell the doctor my breast resembled a vagina.

Well it has been 10 days now, I have healed very well, my left and right tatas look the same and are actually pretty nice. I won't be flashing them anytime soon, but I am happy with the result and very happy this ordeal is over.

Would I do this again? I am asked that a lot. Yes, I would do it again. There were a few weeks that were hell. It didn't hurt a hurt but g its not the worst pain Ive experienced. I'm happy that I don't trip over my breasts when I am braless. I am happy that I don't have to carry those massive mams around. I am happy that I don't have the headaches or backaches anymore. I am also happy that I don't look like Moms Mabley anymore. (young people, you will have to Google Moms)

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Unconditional Love

When I was young, I remember my Grandmother telling me (I don't remember the conversation) that she was sure that Al Capone's mother loved him!

I couldn't imagine someone loving someone that killed people. In my immature mind, I couldn't comprehend that a mother or anyone for that matter, could love someone unconditionally....even if they were a murder or thief or a 'bad guy'.

As I grew up, I learned what it was to love someone for good and bad (not gangster bad) but someone who hurt your feelings, fight or argue with you and then make up and be friends again. These are lessons we learn when we are young with our friends. Having parents that loved me and were there for me also taught me a lesson of love and faith and comfort of knowing someone loved me, didn't matter if I was fat/skinny, ugly/beautiful, bratty/well behaved, they even loved me when I had zits on my chin!!

When I became a teenager, I tested their love more than anyone could imagine, and when I got myself in with the wrong crowd and in a lot of trouble, they still loved me! What was up with that? I couldn't understand why!

As approached my 20's I realized what a 'bitch' I was to my parents when I was a teen, and I even told my mother "I can't believe you still love me after what I put you through when I was a teenager' and she just smiled.

Finally, when I had my own baby I finally realized that I couldn't imagine loving anyone more than I did this tiny baby boy...except one night...I was living with my parents at that time, and I was up all night with a screaming, colicky baby...I hated him, I wanted to hit him, I wanted to shake him. To tell you the truth I don't know what stopped me. Finally, I quietly woke my mother up. I was crying, and I asked her to help me (my then husband never woke up). The baby quietened down eventually with my mother rocking him, and I told her that I "hated the baby. I made a decision and tomorrow I am going to the adoption agency and give him up for adoption, there are many people out there that would love a baby, and I hate him. I hate him and I don't want him anymore"!

My mother sat there, she didn't have a look of shock or pity or anger. She just nodded and said "I understand..I will drive you". I thought to myself 'that was easy' and I felt so much better. She put the baby down to sleep and I crawled into bed myself exhausted and relieved that there was a resolution to my 'problem'.

I woke up late in the morning. My baby didn't wake up! I panicked...I ran to his crib and he was sleeping like...a baby....The memories of the night before flooded back...I ran out to the kitchen where my mother was sitting, drinking her coffee. I panicked, I cried...'what is wrong with me, how could I have said those things, I love him more than air, I can't give him away, what kind of mother am I? What kind of person am I?"

My mother got up and hugged me..."I know Honey" she said "I know you love him, and I know you were just tired and frustrated, and I know you wouldn't give him away!"

I realized that my mother knew what I was going through, and in her wisdom, she just agreed with me instead of arguing, and she knew that when I woke up in the morning, I would have been devastated for even saying these things.

Again, she amazed me. She loved me through my bratty childhood, she loved me through my pukey teenager stage, she even loved me after I told her I hated my baby!

I have 2 amazing children now. My son is 27 and my daughter is 15. I would take a bullet for them. I would give them both my kidneys if they need them, I love them more than air, more than my own life, however both of them have given me challenges. They have both tested me, and I still love them. I will be there for them whether it is to attend court with them, or hold their hair when they are sick. Nothing in this world is more important than my children, and I get it now. I get it why my mom has been there through every stage of my life, even the ugly stages and still loves me with all her being, UNCONDITIONALLY. I also get it why, even though he was a dangerous gangster, Al Capone's mother still loved him.


Today I am going to write about the things that make me happy….just a sec, I have to take the garbage out…..ok, I’m back…so things that make me happy…..ummm I just have to check twitter, I’ll be right back……sorry, I’m back and ready to write…SO things that make me happy…oops phone ringing…brb….

Sad thing is, some people are always happy. Some people always see the glass half full, and the colour of the sky makes them euphoric. Some people love getting up in the morning. I work with a lady that is always happy. Always positive about the day and always looking at the bright side of things. I always wondered if she had something in her genes or extra ‘something’ in her blood that made her that way.

I did a lot of investigating on this subject….ok, I Googled it….and I found that there are hormones out there that do make you happy.

  • Serotonin: Serotonin is sometimes called the happiness hormone. Serotonin regulates the mood, prevents depression and makes you feel happy. Serotonin can be released by getting exposed to sunlight, by eating foods rich in carbohydrates and by exercising.
  • Endorphins: Endorphins can make you feel good, reduce your anxiety and your sensitivity to pain. Endorphins are released by exercising
  • Dopamine: Dopamine helps you to feel mentally alert. The lack of it might cause lack of attention, lack of concentration and bad moods. Dopamine can be released by eating foods that are rich in protein.
  • Phenylethamine: Phenylethamine is the hormone that results in the feelings we get in the early stages of a relationship. Cocoa beans contain Phenylethamine. eating chocolate might be helpful too.
  • Ghrelin: Gherlin is a hormone that reduces stress and can help you become more relaxed. Ghrelin is released when we become Hungary that's why eating too much is not always a good idea. Just eat according to your body’s needs and never fill your stomach completely in order to maintain good Ghrelin levels

There you have it. Looks easy? I’m not a Doctor or a Specialist in Alternative Medicine so please don’t take my word for this, I found it in Google. The point is, do some people have more of these hormones in their body? If so, if I went to a Health Food Store and purchased all of these hormones in pill form, will I be happy? Happiness is your frame of mind, but do these hormones help form this ‘frame’ or is it genetic?

I always wonder if Jeffrey Dalmer’s mother used to wake up in the morning; bright and early and smiling listening to the birds, or is there a lack of hormones in their genes? Why am I always miserable in the morning, always whining about something, always complaining about aches and pains, and my parents always wake up around 5 am happy?

I always wondered if I could get a blood transfusion from my friend at work that is always bloody happy, and if that would work for me? This would make an awesome novel – blood bars to get happy blood!

I think the hormone issue needs to be investigated closely, maybe I will keep ‘Goggling’ but until then you can get the hormones necessary by 1) getting some sunshine

2) Exercise

3) Eat balanced meals/protein

4) Eat chocolate

5) Eat when you are hungry, but don’t eat ‘til you are uncomfortably full

For the record – writing makes me happy!

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Annie - Short Story


When I moved to a small town from Toronto 18 years ago, I never realized I would meet a completely different breed of people. The kind of people that look you in the eye when they walk by you on the street and say a cheery “hello”. The kind of people that talk about the weather, not for small talk, but actually are interested in what you have to say! The kind of people that take the time to laugh, the deep belly laughs that only children usually take time for. It took me a while to start walking through town looking up at people; I didn’t realize that I always looked ahead or through people as I walked by. It was something that was bred into me living in the big city, afraid of eye contact, afraid to stare, afraid of idle chit chat. There are probably many psychological reasons why we are afraid to look at others while we walk down a street, whatever it is; it took some work on my part.

My group of new friends extended from parents of children my son went to school with, to the regular locals that were retired and would drop by the local ‘Gas/mo e rent /groc ies/din /store’, This was actually a ‘Gas Station slash movie rental slash groceries slash diner slash store’ Anything you needed was sold in the store. You could find dish soap, shoes laces, candles, candies, fishing lures, pop, hardware, frozen pizza and pop. Anything you needed could be found in the store, this included friends.

This is where I first met Annie. When I first met her, I was fresh out of Toronto. She looked to be to be around 90 years old. She had whiskers on her chin, a full moustache and hairy moles. Her glasses probably dated back to the 1960’s, they were blue, and cat’s eyes shaped, the kind my mother wore when I was a child.

Annie always wore house dresses. The kind of house dresses you would find in Kmart or Towers. They were cotton, with flowers, about knee length, with 2 huge deep pockets situated on the hip, a place to keep her cigarettes and lighter. They were definitely not a fashion statement; they were usually stained but clean and ironed.

Annie lived in a small Victorian house across the street from the ‘Gas/mo e rent /groc ies/din /store’, the house was surrounded by an old iron ornamental fence that was about 4 feet high, with a large gate that was always left open due to a broken hinge. It was an amazing fence, something you never see anymore except in magazines. The house, however was run down, the shingles needed replacing and the pain on the woodwork around the windows, what was left of it, was cracked and peeling. Plastic that was once installed on the inside of the windows to stop the brutal winter drafts, and was never removed. I often wondered if living in the house with plastic on the windows made her feel like she was in a dirty fish bowl, Unable to see outside during the spring and summer months.

Next to her house was the United Church. On the other side of the church was the local cemetery surrounded by a chain link fence. It was a small cemetery, but well maintained, there were always fresh flowers in the summer and wreaths in the winter. Every time my son and I would drive by the cemetery I asked him “how many people are dead in that cemetery?” He would laugh and say “all of them!”

Annie always wore her slippers with her house dresses. No need to change, when she was just going to shuffle across the street for a bite and a cup of coffee and some company. She wore knee high stockings, for the illusion that she was actually wearing panty hose; however they usually were rolling down to her ankles.

Rumour had it that there was no running water in the old house, or bathroom facilities, that explained why she took so long in the washrooms every time she visited the ‘Gas/mo e rent /groc ies/din /store’. It was hard to believe that in the 90’s anyone didn’t have running water or indoor plumbing. If it was true, it wouldn’t have known it because Annie was always clean, except for the nicotine on her fingers.

I remember one day, while enjoying a cup of coffee with my new friends, Annie came over to chat. She leaned down with her elbows on the table, putting her face an uncomfortable 6 inches from mine. Unable to back out of the corner I was sitting in, I leaned back a bit to listen to what Annie had to say, secretly hoping she wouldn’t stay long. It was then that I noticed the bristles on her chin, and the fine black moustache she had. When I looked past the cat’s eye glasses I saw Annie’s eyes, and they were blue and clear. From a distance Annie looked to be in her 90’s, when I looked in her eyes, she had the eyes of a 20 year old. The eyes behind the glasses took me by surprise. They were not eyes of an old lady who lives in a rundown house with plastic on the windows; those were the eyes of a woman.

When Annie left the diner, I pleaded with my friends that when I get older and I am in a home, and even if I don’t know who they are or where I am, I want you to visit me once a month and wax my lip. I want you to come in and wax or pluck anything on my face that is sprouting hair! And while you are at it, if I have false teeth, Crazy Glue them to my gums. We had a giggle about it and in a way we were laughing about Annie.

That night, while lying in bed, I thought about Annie, and the shock I felt when I looked past the cat’s eyes glasses. Why was I so shocked to see her eyes? Why did it set me back so much? Why was I thinking about this so much? I realised that she was a child once, a young woman, a mother, a wife, a widow. She had a story, she had a life when she was young and probably never occurred to her that she would get old, and wear house dresses and grow facial hair. She had a life, she probably had her heart broken, she could be me in 40 years! I thought about how insensitive I was, and how much Annie had lived, and how much she knew and how much she could share. I made a promise to myself that I would try and talk to her, look past the whiskers and the cat’s eyes glasses and stop making fun of her. For some reason after looking into those eyes, I needed to know more about her.

About a week later, I visited the ‘Gas/mo e rent /groc ies/din /store’ for lunch secretly hoping to catch up with Annie. She was there, sitting at her regular table, talking to everyone that entered the room. I asked Annie if I could sit with her, and she seemed surprised that I asked. As I sat down and ordered a coffee, Annie lit up a smoke “mind if I smoke Dear?” she asked. It was already lit, but I didn’t mind, I was sitting at her table and I wanted to get to know her.

“How long have you lived in that house Annie?” I asked

“Oh God,, I’ve lived there most of my life, I got married when I was 15, and I moved straight into the house after the weddin’ – spend our honeymoon in that house”

“Wow...15” I was shocked that anyone could be married when they are a mere child

“Yep, Stan was 20. We were married pritnear 60 years. Stan died last year, he’s buried across the street there” Annie pointed out the window towards the cemetery. Pritnear? I knew that was country talk for ‘almost or close to...pretty near...

“So that would make you...75? I asked

“I’ll be 76 next month, my son is supposed to come out and bring the grandkids. I haven’t seen them since the funeral.”

“Oh, you have a son? So do I, my son is 7”

“Yep, Eddy was 50 last month. You only have the one?” Annie was always smiling, always happy. I on the other hand always found something to complain about.

“Yes, only one. You only have the one too Annie?”

“Yep, Stan and I wanted to have 10 kids, but having Eddy almost killed me. There were no hospitals, so I had a friend come over and help me. Turns out he was coming out feet first. They had to rush me to Toronto to see a doctor. They tied my knees together to stop him from comin’ out...I thank the Lord every day for not letting anything happen to Eddy, you know...mental wise”

“They tied your knees together!” I was shocked “You are lucky!”

``after that, we couldn`t have any more kids. Stan pretended he didn`t mind, but I know he wanted more``

I wanted to know what happened to Stan, but I was afraid. I was afraid to upset Annie, and I was afraid to appear too nosey.

``Did you stay home or did you work?” I asked

“I worked in the local Hotel” Annie answered

“Hotel! There was a hotel in this town? Where?”

“It was at the corner, beside the bank building, this used to be a booming town, because the train went straight through the town...yeah, there was a hotel, a grocery store, a 5 and Dime, a sewing shop...”

Annie filled me in on all the history of the town. It was amazing that this town could go from a booming metropolis to a small sleepy town.

Annie had to leave, needed to go feed her cat she said. I watched her shuffle across the street to the cemetery. She stopped in front of the cemetery and leaned against the fence with her elbow, keeping the other hand in her pocket. She was talking to her husband I was sure, but it was the relaxed way she was talking to the cemetery that stuck me. She was pointing and shaking her head and not concerned about any of the cars driving by. She was having a true conversation with her dead husband, as if having a rationale conversation. Then she blew him a kiss, waved, turned, then shuffled home.

I looked forward to my visits with Annie. She was so interesting, she was naive but at the same time she was worldly. Mentally she was a young 20 year old woman. Physically she was an old 76 year old woman. She had the sense of humour and spirit of a school girl, you could see she was up to mischief when her eyes would twinkle, and wink and then tease the kid that pumped gas about all the girls that were watching him. She would play practical jokes – once putting a plastic spider in another regular patron’s soup when he went to the men’s room. She always had a joke, usually the same joke, sometimes making it a bit spicier by adding a few curse words. She would put her hands up to her mouth and whisper the curse words, then would ask us to excuse her French!

Annie told me early in the mornings; before she went to work at the Hotel, she would help Stan milk the cows, then load the truck with milk to sell. She would change her clothes and head to work at the front desk of the Hotel. She met all kinds of people who were passing through. She named movie stars and politicians she met, and even lucky enough to get an autograph from Mary Pickford. “Lucky she was in silent pictures I tell ya, she had a voice like a donkey...did you ever hear a donkey in heat? That’s exactly what her voice was like” Annie laughed

Annie had a lot of gossip, and always remembered everyone’s name. She told me about the son of the owner of the hotel ‘used to keep a room aside for just himself, and he used to sleep with women that were passing through town..Oh yeah, he was a ladies’ man alright...smooth talker that one. His father didn’t know about the room, but he used to keep the key and order the maids to clean the room every time he was finished with a young lady.”

“What happened to him” I wanted to hear more

“He died of VD!”

“Really” I asked “he died from VD”

“Yep” she laughed “it was a real scandal I tell ya, all the young ladies that were associated with him all booked train tickets for Toronna to see a doctor” She leaned back and lit a smoke smiling “you should have seen them, one by one they were buying tickets, terrified they had the VD too. Oh my Goodness, it was a real scandal. All we needed was the penicillin and we were fine”.

“We Annie?...did you have relations with him too?” I was intrigued with her story

Annie stopped smiling, realizing she let the cat out of the bag. She leaned close to me, I could see the eyes again “that is between you and me ok Dear” He was a handsome son of a dog, and Stan and I were having some problems. He went out of town to find work, and like I said” she sat up straight again and lit another smoke. “He was a real smooth talker”.

I knew there was more to the story, but I didn’t persue it. Annie would let me know in her own good time, if she wanted to.

One spring afternoon, while my friends and I were having our afternoon tea, we watched Annie shuffle home from our visit. There were 3 telephone repairmen working on a telephone box across the street. Annie waived to them as she does to everyone that she sees, then turned her back to the repairmen, bent over and started to pull weeks from her walkway! Her house dress was hiked up to her waist, flashing the repairmen. They all stopped what they were doing, their mouths dropped, they looked at each other in disbelief then started to laugh uncontrollably. My friends and I also wanted astonished.

“Do you think she did that on purpose?” on friend asked

“No...Annie isn’t some kind of flasher”

“Oh yeah, well since when has Annie ever weeded her walkway?”

We all looked at each other and giggled.

The winter months were cold and damp. It snowed everyday it seemed. I didn’t visit the ‘Gas/mo e rent /groc ies/din /store’, during those days when the roads were bad with drifting snow. I thought of calling Annie, to see how she was making out, but of course she didn’t have a telephone.

Finally, like the wild animals in the nearby forest, we all came out of hibernation and ventured out to visit friends at the Diner. I needed to socialize again. I was looking forward to seeing my friends again, especially Annie.

When I drove into the parking lot, there was an ambulance in Annie’s driveway. I walked across the street to the crowd of people standing in front of Annie’s house.

“What’s going on?” I asked

“Annie” my friend was crying “we hadn’t seen her for a few days, and she didn’t answer the door so we called the police. Turns out the old girl had a stroke and has been dead in there for over a week”

“A week!” I was so shocked, I felt so guilty. I knew she was alone, and I didn’t even check up on her all winter “the poor thing....”

“Good ole Annie...she always had a nice thing to say about die like that...all alone” I heard someone say

“She was waiting for her son all last month, and he never showed up” another said

When they brought the body out on the gurney, covered, I felt sick. I felt sick with guilt. I felt sorry for her, and I felt sorry for myself. I didn’t have a coffee that day, I just went home.

I thought about Annie, what her life was like, that one day she had the world by the tail, then she got old and suddenly she was in the back of the line-up of life. She wasn’t important anymore, not even to her son. I thought of how much alike we were, and I could die one day, all alone. I realized then I had to do something with my life, to make sure I am surrounded by friends and family that love me, to work hard, but to make sure I made time to play. I wanted to get everything out of life that is out there to enjoy. I wanted to grab the world by the tail, and bungi jump.

That summer I was busy. I was busy at work, busy with my son, busy with friends, and busy with a new boyfriend. I visited the “Gas/mo e rent /groc ies/din /store’ every once and a while, but it wasn’t the same without Annie. Annie’s house was tone down, the old house with the plastic on the windows and the beautiful iron fence was gone, and new sod was laid over the hole where her house once stood. When I drive by it is hard to see where the house once was. Gone; disappeared like Annie.

Whenever I feel down, or feel sorry for myself, I drove by and realize again how important it is to live to the fullest. I slow down long enough to blow Annie a kiss at the nearby cemetery.

Twitter and Big Fatties

If you read anything about the Tale of 2 Titties, you will know I have been off work for 2 months. I always wanted to go on short term disability, and such luck. But I have managed to only have to get dressed 5 days out of the 8 weeks I've been off.

With all this extra time, I finally figured out Twitter. I activated the account last year and I felt like I was in an empty tunnel "hello? anyone out there" It didn't seem as exciting as Facebook because there was always someone out there, adding there posts and updates, someones baby got a tooth, another friend is waiting for her husband to come home. Some real, mind expanding, tidbits of information that got me through the day.

So, I started looking into Twitter more, and realized that you are not monitored like Facebook, that you can actually swear and not have to use symbols like "you are an a*" or "I am so freakin' tired" I love to swear. I cannot say a sentence without swearing. I don't even think a joke is funny without swearing. My husband asks me all the time 'why do you swear so much'. I was born and raised in Rexdale, that is part of our Twitter seemed to be perfect to me.

There are also a lot of bloggers, lot of writers, lot of very funny people out there. You can even send a comment to a celebrity, and it is actually the real person (there are exceptions, I will talk about that later). There is a rush when someone follows you. I have sat out in the dirty, messy garage having a smoke, and laughing. The spit water, pee your pants kind of laugh. I have 39 followers, and only 3 or 4 of them are actually people I know. I have numerous friends in UK, some in the US, some Canada. If someone makes me laugh, I check out their followers and check out their tweets to see if they are interesting. I have also removed people from my list!

I used to have the Kardashians, Snookie, and other tree hugging celebrities that drove me crazy. All I received as tweets by any of the Kardashians was to promote their perfume, shoes, shows, and all I read with Snookie was that she is snuggling with her love, and self portraits of her hair and tan. Boring shit. Then I had a few celebrities that constantly tweeted about the air, the water pollution, the world is going to end, there are animals tortured. Now I am as concerned as the next guy, but to read it constantly day in and day out, I was about to slit my wrists or up my antidepressants!

There are always some celebrities that answer your tweets, and there are others that don't. It doesn't matter what you do, they will never answer you. I see sometimes celebrities like Seth MacFarland will reply if he was insulted. I don't want to insult someone just to get a witty reply or be told to fuck off! But when I ask Robert Pattinson if he likes my profile pic (which is him photo shopped beside me) I expect an 'it's brilliant" or "Love it".

Then there are the 'haters'. People out there that have activated an account without their real name, or even using a celebrity's name and they just spew hatred or venom. I asked Norm McDonald the comedian a question, and some freaky hater replied calling me a 'HO'. I showed him...I told him to get a life and called him a 'Mo' - then I blocked him not to fuck with me!

I was trying to find the correct Will Ferrell because there were 5 or 6 to choose from and none of them had the blue verification check mark that confirms this is the real person. My daughter told me to Google it. I found one I was sure was Will, and then he was calling his followers 'shit stains' I replied to him, you aren't the real Will Ferrell, he wouldn't call his fan's 'shit stains' and I told him to get a life...and blocked him! I know what you are thinking, I am one tough lady, I don't put up with any one's is I don't like confrontations so I block them!

So I have many Tweeters that have the same interest as me, who like to laugh, write, blog and expand their minds with witty repartee. We giggle about smoking big fatties, roach clips and how you look like a big loser if you still have one.

I don't know what I used to do with all my time and I don't know what I am going to do when I get back to work!

Tale of 2 Titties - Part 4

I'm actually getting bored of this subject....I am still healing, my right breast is lovely - the right one is nasty....I am not going to write about the tale until I have healed...too gross, too boring, and until it is healed and I can actually enjoy the new titties, I will write later...

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Tale of Two Titties - Part 3

As mentioned, the drive home was an experience with all the bumps and potholes, I pretty much sat in the car holding my breasts to buffer the shock of the bumps. You can imagine the looks I was getting from other drivers.

The first 2 weeks were a breeze. I felt pretty good, except for the constant nausa which was from the anesetic. I was healing fast, I had the drainage tubes removed within a week. The tubes were never really in the way or annoying, I looked at it this way, they were smaller than the breasts that were hanging there 2 weeks prior!

I had a Nurse visit daily to change the dressings, and make sure that everything was healing properly.

I visited the Surgeon, and he was pleased with my progress, and to continue what I have been doing. I felt at this time that I could change the dressings myself, and the nurse released me from daily visits.

I suppose I got a little too cocky about my speedy healing, because on the 3rd week I started to feel sicker, and exhausted and the left breast was red and hot around the nipple. I don't want to gross out the readers, but the infection was nasty. I went to my Family Doctor and she put me on antibiotic on Tuesday. She did proactively take a swab of the infected area.

I can't even remember the weeks to follow. I just slept, couldn't eat due to the nausea. I forced gingerale to keep myself from getting dehydrated. On Friday morning I received a call from my Doctor, advising that the swab she took came back that the infection was from a rare bacteria that would only have been picked up from the hospital, and that the antibiotics she gave me wouldn't work, but called in another perscription for the correct medication.

By Sunday the infection got worse and I drove myself to the hospital. Again, I will spare the details, however when you have surgery like this, the tissue and fat dies and decomposes and needs to be drain.

Lets just say, by this time in my "new breasts life", they have been exposed to numerous nurses and doctors. It was as if they weren't mine anyway, I couldn't imagine showing my real breasts to anyone. I showed the Dr in Emerg and I am sure he was grossed out. He took a swab as well, and gave me another perscription for antibiotics and to take it along with the antibiotics I received on Friday. He told me that if it gets any worse to go back to the hospital where I had the surgery!

I became sicker and weaker. I called and left a message for my surgeon to let him know what was going on. His secretary called me Monday and asked that I come to his office Tuesday. I was too weak to drive, and I was sure that he was going to re-admit me and set me up on IV antibiotics and perhaps another drain. I was even taking some of the painkillers that he perscribed. I didn't feel that I needed the painkillers even the day after the surgery, but now I was in a lot of pain.

Tuesday, my parents drove me to Newmarket to visit the Surgeon. He explained that there was an absess on the one nipple and that the infection was not serious, but fat and its surrounding tissues becoming necrotic. He removed the abcess and infection. He called to have the nurses back to pack the area and ensure the infection clears up.

Back home I became sicker and slept more. At this point, the 4th week after the surgery I wanted someone to shoot me. I felt amazing the first 2 weeks. Now I lived off of Gravol, ginger-ale and popsicles.

Monday morning, almost a week later I woke up and wasn't nausaus. I was actually hungry! Hallalooooooooooya I felt human again. I actually had breakfast and kept it down.

The nurses are still coming and packing the hole that was created when the doctor removed the absess. I visited him again Tuesday and he is happy with the progress with the infected area, and happy with what the nurses are doing....

Check out next month....the benefits of having smaller breasts!