It was like the best slap I've ever had. Woke me up and now I'm glad.
Literally less than 3 minutes ago I had an epiphany.
I was picking an outfit for tonight (I'm going out...woo!) and chatting with one of my girlfriends about the outfit. I mention that I suck at ironing (because I do...I ironed my shirt with a straightening iron the other night. Talk about ghetto) and she offers to iron my shirt for me (It's silk...I don't want to ruin it. With my luck I would).
"Strip for me," she says jokingly.
"Anytime," I respond followed by a wink.
As I take my shirt off and hand it to her, I catch a glimpse of my stretch marks in the mirror. Heavy sigh.
"You're gonna get that fixed right?" my friend asks.
"Of course," I declare. "After all this crap, I support plastic surgery. I hate having to look at this every day."
"Weren't you going to wait until you had kids. That's what your doctor said, right?"
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I'm 21. I'm fairly thin. I should be wearing bikinis if I want to go to the beach. Or shorts because it's so hot outside and summer. I shouldn't be constantly worried about these effing stretch marks. Wait until I have kids? Who said I'm having kids? Who said I'd be ABLE to have kids. I have undergone full regiments of chemotherapy two different times. I know I've taken my preventative measure with Lupron, but damn, who says it's going to work? By the time I have kids, I'm not going to care that I have stretch marks. It comes with having kids. I HAVE NO CHILDREN NOW. WHY AM I STRETCHED LIKE A G-DAMN BALLOON THAT WAS BLOWN UP WAAAAY TOO MUCH THEN DEFLATED??!
I honestly believe that I shouldn't have to wait. Who says that's even going to happen? I'm living NOW. What if I die tomorrow? Nope. This is ridiculous.
I'm talking to my rheumie and kidney doctors next week. I'm gonna see what I can do about this business.
GIT-R-DONE.
I was picking an outfit for tonight (I'm going out...woo!) and chatting with one of my girlfriends about the outfit. I mention that I suck at ironing (because I do...I ironed my shirt with a straightening iron the other night. Talk about ghetto) and she offers to iron my shirt for me (It's silk...I don't want to ruin it. With my luck I would).
"Strip for me," she says jokingly.
"Anytime," I respond followed by a wink.
As I take my shirt off and hand it to her, I catch a glimpse of my stretch marks in the mirror. Heavy sigh.
"You're gonna get that fixed right?" my friend asks.
"Of course," I declare. "After all this crap, I support plastic surgery. I hate having to look at this every day."
"Weren't you going to wait until you had kids. That's what your doctor said, right?"
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I'm 21. I'm fairly thin. I should be wearing bikinis if I want to go to the beach. Or shorts because it's so hot outside and summer. I shouldn't be constantly worried about these effing stretch marks. Wait until I have kids? Who said I'm having kids? Who said I'd be ABLE to have kids. I have undergone full regiments of chemotherapy two different times. I know I've taken my preventative measure with Lupron, but damn, who says it's going to work? By the time I have kids, I'm not going to care that I have stretch marks. It comes with having kids. I HAVE NO CHILDREN NOW. WHY AM I STRETCHED LIKE A G-DAMN BALLOON THAT WAS BLOWN UP WAAAAY TOO MUCH THEN DEFLATED??!
I honestly believe that I shouldn't have to wait. Who says that's even going to happen? I'm living NOW. What if I die tomorrow? Nope. This is ridiculous.
I'm talking to my rheumie and kidney doctors next week. I'm gonna see what I can do about this business.
GIT-R-DONE.
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