A bitch had a fantabulous if hectic feastitude preparedness weekend!
After shopping (mercy!) and cleaning (old ass house = dust…lots and lots of dust) a bitch finished with a delightful dinner party with friends hosted by my Play Husband!
As some of y'all know, the Thanksgiving holiday holds a special place in a bitch’s heart. No, this bitch doesn’t get all weepish over the thought of starving Puritans feasting on the bounty of others.
And I don't adore Thanksgiving simply because it is a food-based festival of gluttony either…not that there’s anything wrong with that.
This bitch celebrates the hell out of Thanksgiving because it is the anniversary of the death of a certain Enid. Five years ago this week, to be precise.
Who was this Enid and why the fuck is a bitch celebrating her death?
Glad you asked!
Enid was actually a group of symptomatic fibroid tumors that decided to make my uterus their home. A bitch and my surgeon spent months conspiring to shrink and then kill the collective cell dividing motherfuckers I named Enid…and finally settled on the old school method of scalpel to tissue execution.
My treatment…those months of “now I totally understand Sybil” hormones, “you want to put that where?” ultra-sounds, “you’re going to feel a little pressure” exams, “this may be slightly painful” prodding and “you shouldn’t drive after taking” painkillers…changed my life.
I emerged from surgery altered…beautifully scarred…and beyond thankful.
For the gift of this life…for the weeks of post-surgery recovery that have resulted in years free of pain and hemorrhaging…for having a treatable condition that will not keep me from friends and family this holiday …and for the learning experience that was the death of Enid.
Oh, and for the multitude of food this Enid Free for Five Years bitch is preparing to inhale this week…