I have two definitions of irony. If you have ever seen "Reality Bites," and you should... You would know you need at least one definition. Well, reader I have two.
1. The week of my mastectomies I was doing laundry. I had a few bras to wash and kinda chuckled to myself that it would be the last time I would wash them. They were my favorite ones btw. Well, I was going to dinner with some friends that week and as I was dressing I realized they were still in the washer, so I ended up wearing a camisole, which is what I wear now to keep warm. I got lazy as the week wore on and never ended up drying those bras. So on my last week to be a bra wearer, I never wore one. Silly me. If I could go back now I would of wore it wet.
2. From May 12, the day after I weaned Wyatt to September 10, I counted every calorie I put in my mouth. My goal was 1100-1200 calories a day. I wrote down everything. My friends were sick of hearing about it! It was not fun at first, but it became a competion within myself. I also had a personal trainer. In the end I ended up dropping about 20+ pounds. I looked good, I felt good, I felt strong and healthy. Funny all that healthy eating and excercise never stopped cancer. umph. Here's the irony... I haven't eaten in about two days now due to lack of appetite. Maybe an apple here or bannana there. A few crackers along the way. It's now 3:10 in the morning. I woke up a little nausous and maybe feeling a little empty. So I got out my trusty food journal and decided I better track my food in order to get to atleast 1200 a day or I will end but sick. Now that's irony.
Peace Out
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