Salome Starfire

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So darlings, I havent’ written for a while and that is because I have been rather busy doing other things. In fact the title of this little bit of blog is Tittax because I had a scare last week. Yes, after hearing the news that my mum’s sister has had her second mastectomy it only added to my anxiety. My left breast was sore, all nervy like and tender and so I went to the doctor and got referred to get an ultrasound. Apparently because ultrasounds are preferable to mammagrams in women young like me. So after that ultrasound I waited an hour to get the results and yes they found something. Well life is strange and people stranger and when you don’t think you are strong I proved myself wrong. I am. And I wept and so did my partner and my mother, but let’s not give up hope. So I went to the Wesley Women’s Breast Clinic and I was put in a gown and got there for my 10.30 appointment and there was terrible coffee. The coffee tasted like cigarette water. There were men waiting in the room for their partners and sisters and mothers as well. Finally I get that groovy little ultrasound, which is you don’t know how it works, it’s basically sound penetrating my body and reverberating off different areas. Anyway…waiting…waiting…results after an hour or two…yes there is something…fibrous tissue?

Ahhh I’m freaking out. My morbid side is totally taking over. I think all those terrible morbid thoughts and immediately feel like George from Seinfeld when his career is about to be launched into the heights of success and he finds that white discolouration on his lip. ( I have a manuscript under review at a publishing house at the moment). Anyway feeling pretty damn sexy in my gown, and the nurses and doctors are so lovely. But I find out my best option is a biopsy…actually a core biopsy. That means they slice your tit, put a drill down and extract from the area that keeps showing up as a dark splotch on the mammagram. Well that was scary. Needles. knives, and I’m hoping the anaesthetic that’s made my tit numb is working! So that’s all done and I’m home by five. Only to have to wait around til Monday afternoon for the results, with songs like George Michael’s “last christmas’ going on in my head, which is tragic at the best of times.

But finally the results come to me, I meet them head on…and I am clear. My tit is healthy. I am healthy. My boobs are healthy. So here I am and I’m thinking well I must certainly love the years as they sag, I must learn to love their shape and weight and texture because an experience like that is so incredible.I kept saying to myself at every point ‘this is interesting’. And it was. So many brave women out there and so many people enjoying the visuals of breasts (men mostly, and women too). So a Tit tax! how about it. Every time you buy a rude mag or download an image of boobies on a girl, then why not donate a dollar to  breast research. Well I think it’s a good idea.


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