I’m always right #hypochondria

Well, it’s official. My hypochondriac ways finally paid off.

Remember my blog about the spot on my head that the doctor and my husband felt was a mole? Remember me telling those ding dongs that i felt it was something more? Remember me having it removed against their advice? Remember their judgmental ass looks when I stated that I really felt something was wrong??

Well guess the fuck what? IT WAS A TUMOR. Yes, read that twice. A. FUCKING. TUMOR.

Pardon my language y’all, but this is a serious ass matter. That tumor could have caused me a lot of issues. But, I knew it. I knew it was bad. I know my body. I know me, mother fuckers.

I waited for my husband to come home from work and I yelled “I WAS RIGHT. I’M ALWAYS RIGHT!” Then I bent over so he could kiss my cute little ass.

Kisses.

Blaire 💞💞💞💞

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The time I was called a lesbian.

When I was in middle school, I got my first school best friend. She was the best. She was popular, funny, cute, everything i ever imagined a best friend would be.

I was in a challenging time in my life but I knew that when I got to school nothing else mattered because my school best friend would have my back.

One day I walked into math class and one of my peers accused me & school bestie of being lesbians. I was horrified. I didn’t want people thinking that. I didn’t even want to hear the word. At that time, I thought being a lesbian was something you had to be ashamed of. I was mortified.

I cried in my bed at night for weeks following this accusation. Me? A lesbian? Why me? I couldn’t shake it. I hated myself for starting a friendship that would even remotely resemble a lesbian relationship.

Y’all, if I could go back in time, I’d slap that kid across his ugly face for calling me a lesbian. I’d then turn to my school bestie and make-out with her in front of the whole damn class. Being a lesbian is not something to be ashamed of. It’s not something you call someone to make them feel bad. && even though I wasn’t a lesbian, I should never have felt so negatively about being thought of as one. Stupid middle school kids that were mean to me, I’m flicking you off right now. Stop being ignorant and grow the hell up.

Choose love.

Blaire ❤️

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New Year Eve Party Anxiety

I’d never tell anyone this, but I get anxious when I think about going to a party without my husband or another trusted male. So weird, I know. My 73 best girl friends can be going to the party, but if my husband or a trusted male isn’t there, I’m still uncomfortable.

No, nothing ever happened. No, I don’t know why. It has just always been this way for me. Daddy issues? Shit, maybe.

I’m currently debating texting one of my trusted male friends to see if he’s going to be at the party. He will absolutely think it’s weird that I’m reaching out to him but I don’t care because it’ll put my mind at ease.

Yes, I get this is ridiculous. I’m a work in progress. Hate it or love it, this is how I act.

I’ve made Jell-O shots and buffalo chicken dip for the party. Let’s face it, i know how to have a great time.

Love me even though I’m crazy?

Blaire ❤️❤️❤️

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Grandma died while I watched. 

I watched my grandma suffocate to death. There I said it. That wasn’t so bad, was it? 

Grandma was having trouble breathing one afternoon and was taken to the hospital by my mom and aunt. A few days later, we were told she wouldn’t live much longer. 

The doctor came in to evaluate grandma. He said she’d be fine for another couple of days. He advised my family members to go home and rest. He said that I could sit with grandma in the meantime. 

They left. I sat with my mom. Grandma suffocated. She was DNR. There was nothing we could do. It felt like a bad episode of Grey’s Anatomy. 

Well, guess grandma won’t be judging my lifestyle anymore. 

That was rude, I know. 

Blaire 💋

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It’s me, Blaire. 

I want to be straight forward from the start. My blogs will be offensive. Ya see, that’s why I started this blog. I want to tell things the way they really are. Not with the sugar coating and fake happy attitude; rather, the kind of honesty that makes you take a step back and reevaluate your take on life. The type of honesty that has you secretly nodding your head and wanting to know more. If that’s what you’re looking for, you’ve come to the right place.

And since I’m being open, I curse, I party harder than I should, I have a ratchet family, I don’t like coffee, and I’ve realized through it all that someone out there will read this blog and love every second of my twisted little life, or not. Who cares.

More from me soon,
Blaire

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