So today I had lunch with a bunch of people that I went to school with a thousand years ago and one of those people was my friend Paula, who has new boobs. Paula is awesome despite the fact that she was a willing participant in the Duran Duran Fan Club that kicked me out in the 6th grade because I did something stupid. I don’t actually know what stupid thing I did but whatever it was it pissed off the leader of the group, this girl with big glasses and a mullet who was in ABSOLUTE CONTROL of the group at all times (think the 11-year-old sandbox version of Heathers) and could just snap her fingers and make everyone else hate you in an instant. Which is what she did. To me. Because of the stupid thing I did. Which I cannot remember.
Maybe Paula remembers. Or maybe not. My unceremonious ousting from the Duran Duran Club might not actually have been the same earth-shattering, life-altering experience for her that it was for me.
Either way, I forgive you Paula.
Anyway. My point is not that I was kicked out of the Duran Duran Club, although maybe it should be because the more I think about it that was horrible and really reinforced a budding inferiority complex that plagues me to this day. And also made me terrified of mullets.
And now I’m unreasonably angry at an 11-year-old mulleted, four-eyed girl from 1983 for ruining my life.
GOD I’m so fucked up.
What was I saying? Oh yeah, Paula’s boobs.
See the thing is, Paula had breast cancer 12 years ago and was successfully treated with radiation and chemotherapy, but after ten years of remission she had a test done to determine whether she was genetically predisposed to get breast/ovarian cancer and it turned out that she was actually, well, I’m not sure what the clinical term is for Completely Fucked but whatever it is, that’s what she was. So she made the very smart, very brave decision to have a double mastectomy, essentially saying “SUCK IT, CANCER! You might come back and want my tits but HA HA HA THERE ARE NO TITS HERE, SUCKAAAAA! You’re fucking STUPID! HA HA HAAAA!!” and I’m sorry, but any way you slice it that just makes Paula a total BAD ASS.
And the badassiest part of all of it is that when she had the old, bad boobs removed, she got shiny new boobs put in their place. And they look fabulous. And I got a complete education on fake boobs and how they put them in and where the scars are and how you have to go back for nipples later and how even then you have to have the coloring of the nipples tattooed on and Holy Shitballs WHO KNEW it was such a pain in the ass to get nipples? Really! But it certainly made me appreciate my OWN nipples, which I have shamefully taken for granted all these years.
(I’m sorry, Nipples. I love you. Thanks for being you.)
I also learned that new boobs are hard at first and take a while to soften up and feel more natural, which sucks because Paula won’t let me feel her up until they’re soft and I probably won’t see her for at least another month so that’s a whole MONTH I’m going to be wondering what Paula’s boobs feel like.
Also, our friend Ross was there (badmouthing Twitter, by the way, which is stupid because he doesn’t even USE Twitter, his last tweet was August ’09 and THAT was just a link to some article about chicks who ride motorcycles, complete with the obligatory photo of a girl in a bikini next to a motorcycle. Which kind of makes me want to hurl. So you should follow him and tell him that’s lame, and also convince him to love Twitter and be awesome like me). Ross was the only guy out of a group of six and he kept staring at Paula’s boobs and interjecting things into the boob conversation like “Oh, riiiight,” and “That makes sense,” which was hilarious because he doesn’t actually HAVE boobs (well, I mean, obviously he has BOOBS, that would be super weird if he didn’t, he’d be like an android or something. But he doesn’t have LADYLUMPS, which WAS the topic at hand, if you’ll pardon the expressin. He doesn’t even have MOOBS, and believe me, I looked) — and watching him try to navigate the fine line between acting interested in all the boobs at the table but not TOO interested, made me giggle.
Our other friends The Movie Star, The Rock Star, and The Artiste were all there too, and there was a point to telling you that but now that I’m writing this I’m realizing just how incredibly talented and amazing these people are and Jesus Christ what am I DOING with my life?
SHIT. Now I’m depressed again.
Anyway, we all agreed that Paula’s new boobs are magnificent and I think more than anything it’s just an incredibly wonderful thing that she’s in good health and giving Cancer a huge Middle Finger Salute which, as anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis should know, I personally enjoy very much.
Side Note: I really have no idea why I just called it the Middle Finger Salute. I think my dad called it that once? Is that a military thing? Well, whatever you call it, I’m a BIG FAN of giving other people (and also inanimate objects that have wronged me, horrible diseases, and often Karma) the middle finger.
What was I saying?
Oh, yeah. CONGRATS ON THE NEW RACK, PAULA. And also on telling Cancer to fuck off. I kind of love you.Stumble it!