The Demise of the Seven Day Bra-Free Challenge (aka Daisy Has a Tantrum)

Sorry I missed my update yesterday, guys. Most of the day went fine, with me getting assloads of work done and even spending an unholy amount of time on the stairmaster bra-free.

But then I started getting mastitis. Again. A-FUCKING-gain. **stomps angrily gnashing my teeth**

I’m so freaking sick of this effin surgery recovery!!!!! It’s been two months already, and any time I get into a really good swing of writing like a mad-ass crazy person, I start to get an infection. Does my body not understand? I *need* the mania and buzzy feeling to write well! I can’t eat a balanced diet, and rest when I’m tired, and take breaks and still be productive. The awesome comes from the crazy. That’s where it’s born.

And anyway, if I can’t work too hard, play too hard, and write too hard, what fun is life?

Apparently, all it takes is a day or two of flying happily on endorphins for my immune system to decide, “Oh, doesn’t seem like you need us right now. We’ll just pack up our white blood cells and go home, shall we?”

Fuck it. No more elective surgery for me. Yeah, I like my less-droopy boobs, and I do feel more comfortable in a bathing suit, but I’m not sure I’d voluntarily do something like this again. I’m clearly not cut out for the taking it easy you need for a speedy recovery.

Honestly, I don’t know how celebrities do it. Because you know they must have a surgery like every year. They must be made of tougher stuff than I.

Yours in recovery (yet again),

Daisy

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