Circle of amazeballz

Okay, I know this is the second post in a row with the word "ballz" in it, but sometimes a little testicular word play is just what a girl needs to feel a bit better. I promise to be 100% scrotum-free in future posts (or maybe 97%).

Last night the lovely ladies of a certain employment centre where I had my very first job as a writer-slash-totally unqualified job search assistant held something called a prayer circle for me. The fact that even one person thought of doing this, let along a whole circle of womenfolk, some of whom I haven't seen in eons, blows me far and away. Honestly, from my mom's telling of the event, which involved a feather, a scarf, a pair of my coral-coloured high heels and a shitload of lovely talk about me, I felt like I was talking to someone about my funeral without being dead yet. Out of body to be sure.

And the thing is, after hearing that these gals came together with so much love and support, some of whom have never met me, well... it makes me feel like this cancer would be mother fucking stupid to hang around another second. It would be totally undignified and embarrassing. Like farting when someone hugs you. I feel a bit of zen today that I haven't felt in awhile. I can do this. I can asteroid-blast my way through all this when there's so much good out there that I didn't ask for, let alone ultimately deserve.

Thank you, ladies. You've given me a gigantic virtual bear hug and I promise not to break wind and ruin the moment.