Breaking Plates

The following events are true but no one was hurt in the making of this story... except for maybe a few dinner plates....

I owe Kim Kardashian a big -thank you.- Why you ask? Well, its definitely not because she wears too tight "maternity," clothes. No... definitely not. Instead, it's because she puts her life on television, and although I do not regularly watch the show, one night she inadvertently offered inspiration to my amazing and extremely supportive sisters-in-law and I. As the story goes, on one episode of her namesake show, Kim had trouble expressing her frustrations regarding stresses in her life and to help her release her aggression, her sister suggested that they shatter plates.

Well, my sister-in-law Nikki decided that emulating this act would be the perfect form of therapy as we all absorbed the news of my recent diagnosis. So, on a random Tuesday night, Nikki, my other sister-in-law Danielle, and I, set out with a stack of plates rattling in the backseat.

Despite my best efforts to consistently dress cute for cancer, I wasn't exactly sure what one wears to break plates. My superhero costume was at the dry cleaners so I was going to have to improvise. I felt like this was a covert mission of sorts and that dark colors would be most appropriate. Comfort and something that allowed for maximum range of motion would be key. I finally settled on yoga pants, a hooded shirt, and a pony tail. It didn't necessarily scream high-fashion, but I was confident that it would get the job done.

My mind was on fashion but my heart was on a quest that caused me to reflect a bit. I have realized that I am often responsible, punctual, and a rule-follower. In retrospect, I like to ask myself where exactly that behavior has gotten me in life. It got me cancer. Cool. So, maybe life isn't always about pleasing other people and doing the right thing; maybe sometimes, it about making myself happy and having fun.

This newly adopted attitude was put to the test on this night of plate-breaking. I was looking forward to taking my stress out on some once trendy dinnerware but a small voice in the back of my head insistently tried to push its way through and ask the responsible questions. Questions such as, who will clean up the ceramic shards? What if someone stumbles upon our mess and gets hurt or a car driving through pops a tire? I expressed my concerns to Danielle and Nikki, but quickly learned that we were doing this. No. Matter. What. ...Even if it meant gagging me and tossing me in the trunk in the meantime.

Eventually, we pulled into an abandoned and fairly dark parking lot and blared fierce music with a bass so deep that it caused the car to pulsate against the ground. First thing's first.. we needed to get into the spirit of the event, so we practiced our mean faces. Anyone that knows me is well aware of my innate ability to throw a menacing stink eye; but, when it comes to spontaneously sporting an intimidating mug... well, I just look constipated. So, after many attempts and failures, we decided to skip the characterization and get right to the plate throwing. The intention was to take a plate and throw it as hard as I could while simultaneously yelling something derogatory about cancer.

At this point, it had started pouring down rain. I think this was for effect, making it a completely authentic experience of release and cleansing. Either that, or it just made it slippery and cold...but that doesn't offer much by way of poetic justice so let's stick with option one... I stepped out from under a covered doorway, into the rain, and held plate #1 high above my head poised and ready to throw. But then, despite a million ideas racing through my mind of telling cancer where to stick it.... I froze. I felt silly; here I am, 29 years old, standing in the pouring rain preparing to spray a slew of swear words at cancer and break plates.

No, wait. Here I am, 29 years old, standing in the prime of my life preparing to fight the hardest battle I will ever face.

Ok, in that case, I'm ready.

Smile!

My 1st throw- Enter...bone pain. That throw nearly killed me and all subsequent plates had to be granny tossed across the parking lot to avoid pain.

The Aftermath