Swamp Juice

My friend J is a true believer in eating raw, and drinking green smoothies, he says they changed his life {for the better}. Kale, spinach, avocado, ginger, lemon, fruit, whatever, all power-blended into a frothy green, very unappetizing looking cocktail. After my diagnosis J starting bringing me big jars of these dark green, intimidating drinks on Saturdays, while he was in the vicinity shopping the farmer's market.

At first I could barely get down a sip and then I learned to chug them, and then, lo and behold, I started to crave them. Not in the way you crave chocolate cake, because your senses are craving that -- the smell the taste, the texture, the comfort, it's my body, my cells, craving the healthy green power punch of the swamp smoothy. I think there's a vitamix blender in my future and I'm grateful to J for his persistence. I should also thank T who came at me from the other direction bearing her Green Goddess Juice. Really, my diet and exercise are the only things I can control, so it's best I start.

Today is J's actual birthday and he woke up in a good mood until he realized, and I realized, that I'd forgotten to bake the banana chocolate chip birthday muffins for his class, despite the ingredients sitting on the counter. I hang my head in scrambled shame. He's gone to his dad's now and it was very hard to see him go. The rest of my day has been a flurry of laundry, errands, and my amateur porn shoot to get the breasts documented for posterity. I will probably never look at the pictures, but I would have regretted not having them. Now I wish I had a picture of them from when I was twenty-five.

I could go through every part of my body and find something wrong with it, too big, too small, too this, not enough that, all except my breasts, they are spectacular. Gravity's gotten the better of them but they are still silky, smooth skin with tiny pink rosebud nipples. I've been in my share of locker rooms and they are the nicest breasts I've every seen. I am sad to see them go, but at the same time ready, if you can be ready for such a thing.

The dishwasher is running as is the dryer, the sink is empty, I'm about to put clean sheets on my bed and then shower with the special germ-killing soap I've been given {and again in the morning}, and that's all I can think of to do.

My friend G has my password and will be updating the blog after she hears from my surgeon tomorrow and I'll be home on Friday taking as many pain pills as they are willing to give me. x o k t c