My Tits Were Perfect
I have always loved my breasts. To me, they’re perfect - they’re big but I still could get away without wearing a bra. Like any self respecting P shaped girl, I even loved that self-proclaimed ass men thought that they were amazing. They were the type of breasts that made “I always take nude photos but that’s my art” photographers want to take pictures of me topless. They were the kind of breast that even though they were big I was a wire bra wearing girl at carnival because hey - my breasts were perfect. And not only were they perfect, they were my comfort whenever I was having a bad anxiety attack I’d just hold on to them until the worst of it passed.
My breasts were perfect literally until they weren’t. I don’t know if you all even follow me on twitter or remember the tweet, but months back I tweeted that heartbreak was trying to kill your favorite bitch. Maybe 2 months later, I found out it wasn’t heartbreak at all. It was something just a little more external, something right above the heart it was my breast (the right one, the dominant one, my favorite one). I felt a lump and after ignoring it for a bit because I had one previously that turned out to be nothing I finally got it checked after noticing another symptom that they tell you could be a sign of the pink ribbon disease.
You know why my one good breast is trying to kill your favorite bitch because no longer are they perfect (or maybe they are I just need to get used to a new definition of perfect) but at 28 years young your favorite bitch has been diagnosed with breast cancer.
Since finding out my diagnosis, I have been strangely at peace with everything. I’ve never felt defeated or afraid or depressed. I know that I have everything in me to fight this (after all y’all haven’t been calling me the warrior princess for nothing all these years), and in the moments when I’m low or nervous, my support system has already showed up for me in ways I can’t even count. I have always known that I can and will fight this and that by my birthday in 2020 I will have my health back and have served my purpose for having this disease.
When I was younger reading cancer blogs used to be one of my guilty pleasures and who knew when I was setting up ayetozee in 2016, that this blog would turn into one? Whenever I’m going through my life’s trials - leaving my job, heartbreak, and now this - I use this blog as an outlet and now it won’t just be an outlet for me, it’ll be a way to keep everyone updated with what’s going on with me and possibly help someone who’s going through what I’m going through or a caregiver for someone going through what I’m going through.
I have a treatment plan. I have my family. I have my friends. One of my doctors is a black woman and the other one literally has the same first name as I do. I’m taking it all as good signs from God and the universe that this is my fight to win. If you’d like to be a part of my #fightclub (my close friends on IG) let me know and I’ll add you so you can keep up with my day to day as I fight breast cancer and WIN.
