I had my 2 and a half year check-up on Tuesday and while I don't like getting MRI's, not only is it freaky to lie face down and get sucked into that narrow tube and feel ice-cold potentially poisonous contrast coursing through my veins and listen to that loud erratic avant-garde tap tap tapping but I also don't really like my insides so scrutinized because it scares me, worries me, makes me feel invaded... and yet... as soon as the doctor told me (after 6 looong hours of waiting) that I was okay, I was giddy with joy. I leapt out of my chair and hugged her and the two med students trailing her and I whipped open my gown to show them my boobs (when they asked me to!) without an ounce of self-consciousness or shame that one was less than perfect. (I'd worn a new fun and funky bra with a pink and brown polka-dotted pattern that day and for a second my magical thinking mind thought that was the reason I was okay). And now? It's my birthday next week and I'm throwing myself a birthday bash Saturday night because I LOVE getting older!!