Thanks for Your Interest in My Breasts

I'm still waiting for the full results of my mammogram, but it looks like I'm pretty much in the clear.  Or, in the words of the radiologist's report, my breasts are "unremarkable."

Obviously, I beg to differ.

If I'd had my wits about me, I would have responded á la Teri Hatcher in Seinfeld:



Anyway, it turns out that "unremarkable," in this case, is a good thing.  If you have cancer, you see, one remarks upon it.  Hopefully this week a Medical Professional will explain what the hell exactly is going on, and possibly extract some Diet Coke from a cyst or something.

I just want to take a moment to thank everyone for providing virtual hand-holding, hilarious tweets, and supportive responses to my breast lump hoopla last week.  I'm especially grateful that no one seemed horrified enough by my potty-mouthed guest post on Pajamas and Coffee to stop following me.

As I said, sometimes a lot of swearing is entirely called for.  If you can't swear when your breast is being flattened like a pancake onto a radioactive plate while someone looks for cancer, when can you swear?  Being able to let loose on Mary's blog helped keep me from swearing at the radiology technician.  Tweeting about the "party favor" bag of breast cancer awareness swag kept me from throwing it at someone's head.

So thanks, Mary, for giving me free rein to swear a blue streak on the day of my mammogram.

If you missed the original post, click here to read "Fuck Pinktober and this Motherfucking Diet Coke Cyst."

We will now return to our regular (nonswearing) programming.