i’m a barbie girl

I think the 20 something year old lifeguards were checking me out this morning… you think I’m kidding?!?…what else could they be looking at, the fact that I hit my head on the side of the pool while attempting a graceful backstroke and then not being able to gauge the end of the lane? yes, that happened. Or my gorgeous new post chemo hair regrowth aka mouse brown straw? Or maybe the new hot speedo one piece I bought at Costco that is sold attached to a plastic see through amputated shape of a women, piles of this crap (why can’t they just sell it on its own…do they think we don’t know what it might look like on our OWN bodies…for heavens sake this is tragic for the planet!).

I’m a 42 year old mother, I don’t need to look hot. I don’t need to look like Kim Kardashian with that perfectly heart shaped rear end, although I don’t think she was handed that ass by God – there definitely is a very rich Hollywood plastic surgeon vacationing on a beach somewhere right now from the money he/she made sculpting that back end…I’m joking and so jealous! Anyway, I’m getting side tracked….we all secretly WANT to look good and feel good about ourselves. Did you know that breast cancer is the sexy cancer? Sexier than let’s say toe cancer – I bet you didn’t…well if I die from this disease at least it’s sexy!! My boobs right now feel like small baseballs, so can you imagine what they look like in a swim suit…superb! If only people knew that underneath this sexy Costco number I’m nipp-less and have horizontal Frankenstein scars…. now that is hot!! Hahahaha…not to mention absolutely no feeling. Like my chest took a permanent trip to the dentist office for a filling – numb all the time. Of course I’m kidding about the lifeguards. There was however, a female one who sat in her tower looking totally boooored. Like oh my god when does my shift end so I can check my Instagram. I guess it doesn’t help to have geriatric music blaring in the background. Remember the good old days of oblivion and not giving a sh-t about anything accept a bad song on the radio?…I hate when I can’t find one decent song to brighten up my day.

Anyway, I try to weight things and to put them into perspective. I know that things could always be worse…..so away I go strutting around fantasizing that I look like Robin Wright. hands down – she won the genetic card.

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