Alright Tit.
On my lengthy 'Things To Do Before I'm 30' list (see Northern Lights, get pregnant, write book, lose stone, meet Dave Grohl, own Christian Louboutins), I hadn't factored in beating breast cancer. But them's the breaks.
The ballache is less about having to add such a hefty task to my list than it is the sheer bloody inconvenience of it taking precious time out of my late twenties. I had lots of serious business to attend to, thank you very much, like shopping sprees and Wonderbra-wearing and romantic weekends away and getting drunk over dinner with mates (not that that'd help on the losing-a-stone front). So, while I'll concede that The Bullshit (as I've come to refer to it) might have to come first for a while, what I shan't be doing is allowing it to take away anything more than my hair. (And let's be honest, that's pissing on my chips more than enough.)
I've never been one for keeping my mouth shut, in fact 'too much information' is a phrase I'm less than familiar with (as you're about to discover, so be careful what you're eating while you read, right?). So, to save my friends from endless phonecalls and my fingers from the bore of repeatedly typing the same state-of-my-boobs email, I started a blog to keep them up to speed. And I'm not sure whether it was because they were glad to have a new site for those skiving-at-work moments, or because they knew they could rely on me to tell them all the things they'd never hear from Kylie, but they've kept reading. And hopefully you will too.
The ballache is less about having to add such a hefty task to my list than it is the sheer bloody inconvenience of it taking precious time out of my late twenties. I had lots of serious business to attend to, thank you very much, like shopping sprees and Wonderbra-wearing and romantic weekends away and getting drunk over dinner with mates (not that that'd help on the losing-a-stone front). So, while I'll concede that The Bullshit (as I've come to refer to it) might have to come first for a while, what I shan't be doing is allowing it to take away anything more than my hair. (And let's be honest, that's pissing on my chips more than enough.)
I've never been one for keeping my mouth shut, in fact 'too much information' is a phrase I'm less than familiar with (as you're about to discover, so be careful what you're eating while you read, right?). So, to save my friends from endless phonecalls and my fingers from the bore of repeatedly typing the same state-of-my-boobs email, I started a blog to keep them up to speed. And I'm not sure whether it was because they were glad to have a new site for those skiving-at-work moments, or because they knew they could rely on me to tell them all the things they'd never hear from Kylie, but they've kept reading. And hopefully you will too.
I'm not pretending to be the only twentysomething in the world with breast cancer. I'm just probably the one with the biggest gob. But everyone needs a strategy, and mine is to blog my way through The Bullshit (and come out the other side walking taller in a bostin pair of Louboutins).
L L
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