Radiation Treatment: Superstitions

A photo is worth a thousand words, right? So, decades past my teenage years, I am finally a sexter. You heard me. I was having difficulty explaining to my non-proximal friends what all the hub-bub about my chest lines was about so I sent a photo of Me Boob to my girlfriend. No, I will not send one to you. This is sexting for science. Nothing tawdry. Just the facts, mam. I’m not going to spontaneously show you the birth video of the twins made eight years ago yesterday because I would never video such things. No boudoir photos either. Or sexy pregnant belly pics. Ewwww. And even though a friend bought me Tough Titty themed pasties from the Pasty lady to help Michelle pay for her mom’s reconstructive mastectomy surgery, that will also have to remain a vision in your head. No pics of that exist either unless someone knocked me unconscious and taped tassels to me without my knowledge.

Superstitions: Part 2

On an unrelated note, I keep rocking (the shit out of) making wishes at 11:11, 1:11, 2:22, 3:33, 4:44, or 5:55. I’ve hit two a day the last several days. I don’t know if that means my luck is improving or I’m sadly spending too much time looking at clocks. I have always thought that wishes made for yourself don’t come true because only a selfish bastard would make wishes for herself. Is that the way it works? Like if someone else touches your fortune from the cookie before you read it then the fortune is no good? Or if you take your eyes off the star you are wishing on before finishing your wish in your head then the star wish facilitators spit on you? I do have the good sense not to tell you what my wish is because we all know that is certainly the stamp of wish death. I feel sleazy admitting this but I’ve been making all the wishes for myself (not cancer-related either) lately. What kind of a selfish f*ck am I? I am as far from a beauty contestant wishing for world peace as you can get. Make me rich! Make me famous! Make me healthy! Make my thighs thinner and my pooch flat!

Superstitions: Part 3

Locker # 13 again today. I’m expanding my superstition, though. There are four changing rooms in the inner dressing areas. It’s a given now that I have to put my stuff in locker # 13 (I’ve already reconciled to myself that if I find another cancer patient’s clothes in MY locker, I’m going to move their clothes because they should’ve known better). I now can’t go in the same dressing room on the way in for treatment as the way out. The dressing rooms have to rotate on an unpatterned basis for some reason. I’ll let you know if my superstitions get any more complex. Maybe I should take Devlin’s hippo duo with me…