Kevin, Silas and I went to dinner tonight after work. After ordering beers and dinner, we got all our grub. It was good. Then, two hipster chicks ... I think they were women, but that would definitely be up for debate ... were seated across from us. We kept eating.
At one point I started to stretch my arms out and up. My expanders got "filled" yesterday, so I'm in a bit of pain. Not bad, but not comfortable by any means. I have to MOVE to get things use to the new "addition" ... tons of cc's of saline pushing against my chest wall and armpits. I look over and one of the hipster "Pat" people is cupping her boobs and laughing and looking back at me and then looking back at her friend. These expanders are huge. I will not deny that. I look like Pam Anderson. But, I've got no control over the process that will make me "whole" again. I adore the process as it's like a science experiment. But, it's MY experiment. It's not up for debate OR judging by ignorant and insecure people.
Oh hell, girl, you DIDN'T! I had mentioned earlier, to Kevin, that they were just staring and staring at us. I just brushed it off. But, NOW, he and I were both watching. He started to get pissed, as she was still acting like a 3rd grader. Next thing I know, I was making a comment to the server and I see/hear this hipster "Pat" mock what I was saying.
Game on, sister I sit there. Fire is getting larger and larger inside. She stares. I stare back. She, finally, makes actual eye contact with me and I smiled at her like I was fixing to make her eat her own excrement (I'm editing). I looked at her and was holding onto my table like it was the only thing keeping me from jumping up and shoving her plate down her throat. I'm typically Switzerland. But, I'm Southern. I will jack your ass up if you push me too far. Her stares slowed. I STILL was planning on going over to hand her her own pasty-white ass.
Then, I looked over at Silas. He was singing in his little high chair. He's such a beautiful person. I want him to continue to think that most everything and everyone in this world are beautiful too ... at least, for as long I can. I refuse to be the person that intentionally steals that innocence. I, then, asked the server for our bill. We paid our bill. I stood up, looked over with much intensity, and she wouldn't look back. We left.
I've been pacing the floor, wanting to go back and drag her outside by her lip piercing. I want to spit in her face while detailing the fact that my boobs aren't even boobs. The skin on my chest is ACTUALLY my BACK skin. I want to choke her while shoving my expanded boob "thing" down her throat.
But, what would that accomplish? I'm not too terribly sad about any of this cancer. It's life. I find the whole science aspect of it so completely enthralling. As long as the cancer doesn't come back, I'm just fine. I'm just riled that one ignorant idiot had to ruin my chicken-wing dinner and, moreover, my BEER. DON'T "F" WITH MY BEER!!! One idiot is so insecure and jealous that they had to assume that I, like Pam Anderson, went out and bought fake tits to get ahead in life.
She needs a hobby. If I see her again, I'll will GIVE her a hobby. I might be a happy person, but Pollyanna, I am not! I think I'll lift my shirt and show her my Frankenstein Foobs (fake boobs). I will, then, proceed to use afore mentioned foobs as fists and her face as a punching bag.
Wow, I feel much better. Thanks dear readers for the free therapy. I'm seeing a bit more clearly now. These knockers are rocking. They are apparently passing as big ol' fake boobs. Real enough to make some a-hole take time out of what, I am sure, is an EXTREMELY busy and arduous day of trying to make herself look like a woman OR a man. Again, I'm not certain in which direction she/he was intending to go with it. Wow, "shim" really DOES care about me. Shim might even love me. Awe, that's sweet. I think I'll kiss Shim on the lips the next time I see Shim. I'll kiss Shim on those pasty and pierced lips and ask Shim if Shim would like to feel me up.
So, I win. I've got huge knockers that make, even, "those that are cooler than you" jealous. Yeah for me!
I win!
Now, where's my beer?
xoxo
Anna
2 comments:
Hipsters are like rats in this city. Everywhere you turn there seems to be one eating something from the ground. my friend beat two of them up last week in a bar fight. we are just trying to do our part.
People can be so ignorant. I'm sorry those two losers interfered with enjoying your night out with your boys (and expanding girls-to-be... ouch!).
Those of us who are lucky enough to know you know you've got more strength, character and class in the tip of your little finger than any dumbass hipster.
Those dipwads have no idea how lucky they are that you restrained yourself. You can kick some serious ass, woman. You do, you are and you continue to, every day.
You and your ginormous rack. :)
Sounds like yours are currently bigger than mine. On a frame that is half my size. That takes some doing, but if anyone can pull it off, it's you, m'dear!
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