A cute lil baby (me) entered this world & was immediately rushed into surgery.

Over the next couple years I would have several more surgeries, bouncing back from each one quicker than the one before. I was so resilient back then. Sometimes I beat myself up for losing that resiliency along the way.

But did I really? Unless I stumble into some unfortunate death over the weekend, I’ll turn 33 on Monday, despite the chronic alcoholism, drug abuse, & the early twenties anorexia that I’ve put my body through.

I guess I’m still pretty damn resilient. And I’m so fucking grateful for the body that got me here.

Cheers to me.