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A Preface

If you are under 18, please talk with a trusted adult before proceeding. This series addresses some adult topics with adult language. Thank you.

This is Part 3 of The Boob Chronicles. You may want to start with Part 1 and Part 2.

Monday, May 20: Well, that sucked.

Last week, I felt like I’d really turned a corner. I left the house every day from Tuesday onward. In non-pajamas. I even put on makeup and drove twice, albeit with my spiffy little boob pillow giving me a small buffer from the seatbelt. All in all, I was feeling pretty damn good about myself. Julia came home Wednesday, having spent the last two weeks at Marty’s. And despite still needing a lot of rest and help from my tribe, I definitely made some great strides. And then I took a shower.

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Here I am. Thinking I’m doing so great.

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A Preface

If you are under 18, please talk with a trusted adult before proceeding. This series addresses some adult topics with adult language. Thank you.

January 3. It starts.

I’m getting dressed, and there’s a … lump. Maybe a…a ridge. A… something. It’s something.

Is that a lump? What is that? If I’ve never had a lump, how am I supposed to identify a lump? How do I not know how to do this? Crap. Can I find the same thing on the other side? That seems like a reasonable thing to check. Ummm… No. Nothing else feels like that. Crap. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. It’s so totally nothing. I bet I can’t even find it again if I try. Crap. Yes, I can. That’s a lump. No. Yes. Damnit. Yes. That’s definitely a lump. It’s a lump. Well…well, fuck.

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