Have you ever gone through something completely awful, and then afterwards wondered just how in the hell you managed to survive it?

I guess most people would call that strength or perseverance, but I like to think of it as good old fashioned stubbornness.

With a pinch of fuck you very much.

While I was in the hospital, my dominant stubborn trait kept me going. I was not going to let some funky infection beat me. No bloodyΒ way.

I have witnessed the death of my father, been bullied by my peers due to my weight, came close to dying during childbirth, lived with an abusive son of a bitch, deal with that deplorable fibro and still continue to kick depressions ass on a daily basis. (Sometimes.)

My closest friends and my family have told me so many times that I am as stubborn as a mule. I’m actually damn proud of being that way.

There are worse things to be, like a heartless harpy or a total bitch. (I am 25% bitch, 15% harpy.)

That leaves 65% unaccounted for. So, let’s see. 30% stubborn, and 30% hilarious. (Sometimes.)

Next week, we’ll learn about pastels.

No, I didn’t use a calculator. I am so glad that I paid attention in pre-algebra. They said it would come in handy someday, and they were right. Go figure.

I’m not very competitive. I have lost many a game of Sorryβ„’ and Unoβ„’. But when it comes to the rotten life apples that get thrown at me, I swing my bat hard. I miss often, but I don’t give up.

You know, because I am stubborn. How about you?