Friday BoobBlog

Once again, huge thanks to everyone who's sent well-wishes--greatly appreciated. I'm just taking things slow and trying to eke along at the pace my body demands. One weird thing is that because I've been warned not to raise my hands above my head, I most often find them hovering around my chest instead (while my elbows stay safely locked down, of course), so I look more than a bit like a very small T-Rex.

I've also been having a series of weird, detailed, Tylenol 3-inspired dreams; last night, Steve woke me up because I was making this whimpery scream-noise, right in the middle of a Supernatural pre-credits sequence-type scenario where I was going to be sacrificed to a vaguely female monster/god figure which kept crawling through the grass after me, always just out of view, always changing. I remember hearing that noise, just not knowing I was the one making it. Offputting.

And now it's time to finally try and get my hair washed, because I can actually smell myself. So I bid you all adieux: Still alive. Still itchy. Still smaller.

Better living through surgery.;)