Why must we always talk about my breasts the same day as beach day? Does it have to do with the sand? Is it the pull of the moon and the tides? I called the doctors office at 9am this morning. I got an MRI last monday, I was pretty patient for a week but I draw the line at a week and 6 hours! No sir, not me. I waited and waited and waited and she finally called. I thought the nurse would call so you imagine my delight when the actual doctor called. The radiologist found a one centimeter "suspicious" lump. Great, now people are judging me, suspicious. It's never good when you have stuff in you that's suspicious, it's like having cells being labeled a Scott Peterson. Not good I'm thinking. The nice doctor lady says I have to go get an ultrasound and maybe a needle biopsy. All I can think of is keep on the bright side. Think positive; at least now I get to disrobe in front of more complete strangers!
The second part of my day rocked! Ken brought Skip Frye down to the shores and we rode some of Skip's boards that (how cool is he) he shaped. It was cool paddling out beside the guy who shaped the board I was riding, I highly recommend it. There was a kooky guy who cut me off and pretended like I was a dumb girl and thought he was the coolest thing since warm butter. When I asked him how he was he muttered something in his cool guy language and paddled off, but other than that it was a very awesome set. I was also glad that my little cousin Jake got to meet Skip. He did a report on him in school and finally got to meet the man the myth the legend.
I hope next Beach day we can talk and not discuss my boobs.
