Who you callin’ a ….?


It’s been (passively agressively) called to my attention that I’m a bitch.


Maybe I am. But I’m not going to lie. I’m perfectly okay with that description. Before y’all get all riled up, I’m not gonna get all “let’s be empowered to call each other bitches” on you, because it’s not the point.


The point is that sometimes, people do things and don’t expect that I will call you on it.

Or I don’t react how you thought I was going to react.

Sometimes, I say what I REALLY MEAN, instead of what you thought I was going to say.

Occasionally, my opinion is not your opinion.


That’s not to say that I am the kind of person who will get ALL IN YOUR FACE with my opinions (but, this *is* my blog. This is one place where I am allowed to be as opinionated as I want). I’m not. Usually. I tend to take things comfortably in stride. Because THAT is really the kind of person I am. I’m not aggressive, unless I think that the occasion calls for it.


That being said. I’m not PASSIVE either. You don’t get to decide what I’m going to do or where I’m going to do it, unless

a) I don’t really have an opinion.

b) I am in the minority (majority rules when you go out in groups y’all.)

c) I wanted to that anyways.

d) You’re paying.


I am also not the person who is going to let people treat or talk to me any old kinda way. That goes from stranger on the street to the woman who gave birth to me (although, she’s got some privelege, yo. That’s my mama).


I like to think of myself as being somewhere in the middle between doormat and aggressively obnoxious asshole.


HOWEVER. If you act like a complete asshole, please do not be surprised if I respond in a manner befitting your completely obnoxious behavior.


And if that makes me a bitch to you? I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.

Talk about facing your fears

Took me a while to get to my #OpEleanor update. But there was a reason.

First I should tell you, I really got a lot done. Things I never would’ve tried except, I said I was gonna face my fears, one day at a time. So I did.

And of course, I ended up having to face a huge one.

‘Member that mammogram? It was Day 2 of Operation Eleanor. An aside: Most MDs suggest getting your first mammogram at age 40, and then going yearly. In case you were interested, I’m not 40. Yet.

But. Both an aunt and cousin (mother and daughter) had breast cancer. And I figured this was as good a time as any to get started.

It was simple. Easy. As comfortable as you can imagine a perfect stranger adjusting your tits on a glass table-y thing might be. And after she was done, I asked if I could look. Because, hello! I’m curious. I got the spiel, ” You’ll get your results in a couple of weeks, blah blah.” I’ll be honest. I stopped listening because I figured I’d done what I came here to do and now I can go do a little Christmas shopping.

I got a call a few days later. They found “inconsistencies”, they wanted me to come back for another mammogram and maybe an ultrasound. Please cue internal screaming.

So I did. And this time, they took the pictures and took them RIGHT OVER to be viewed. Not comforting at all. I’m not going to lie. Also? Lemme tell you about awkward: Bursting into tears for NO REASON AT ALL except being scared of something that may not even happen and having perfect stranger comfort me because: CRYING WOMAN. I’m pretty sure it must happen fairly often though. BUT STILL.

And on top of all that, boobies still inconsistent. Now for a biopsy. I would like to take time in this already already long story to tell you that I took pictures of the fancy biopsy table and stuff, but I got a new phone and when they reset it I LOST ALL MY PICTURES. MOTHER. FUCKERS.

Moving on. Biopsied. Right before Christmas. Results? Right before the New Year.

Not cancer.

Still though. The lumps inside my lady lovely lumps? Must be removed.

According to the surgeon, they are so small that I never would’ve known they were there if I hadn’t decided that I needed a mammogram RIGHT NOW. And I kind of shudder to think what those lumps woulda looked like a year from now, or maybe would’ve been when I was actually 40.

BUT. Hurray for early detection! And Yay for #OpEleanor!

Because I’m fairly certain I would’ve put this one off forever if not that that.