I have been making videos on TikTok for months. It filled my time during my surgical recovery and my walking updates motivated me to get up, brush my teeth, put on something presentable and to get my ass up and walk. I had a few viral videos of the day that me and a few friends drank champagne and made plaster casts of our breasts, before I had my breast reduction.

At first, I was a little uncomfortable with the nudity, even though I bare my soul to those women, I never walked around without a shirt or at least a bra in front of anyone except my husband. I spent most of my life hiding, remember? So Kristi and Jolanda did it too, as fun gifts for their husbands. Jolanda cooked for us, like she always does, and we celebrated and said goodbye to my giant boobs. Amanda gets the video creds.

I already told the story of how the mammaries have served me well. But it was time. Our relationship wasn’t going anywhere. We needed to part ways.

Sayonara, Sweets.

Hasta la vista, baby!

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na

Hey, hey, hey

Goodbye.

And in the last few days, after posting some of the very same videos I posted on TikTok intermixed with new videos made only for Facebook, I went viral again. Really viral. At the time of this writing, one of my videos has over 16 million views. Several others are over 100K, 200K, 300K…and I went from having 800 followers, most of which are people I actually know in real life, to over 16,000 followers, most of which I do not know in real life. And brands are reaching out to me to try their products and as a digital creator on Facebook, you can make some side gig money. I need some side gig money. Who doesn’t, these days?

Most of all, I’m having fun with it. I always used my Facebook page as a place to write about the things that meant something to me. It was my therapy. My backyard and my dog and a good Facebook post to my 800 friends is what got me through the pandemic isolation and brought me to processing some of my childhood trauma. PTSD, they say.

Plus, if I’m the one putting it out there, I’m in control of it. It’s not gossip at Track 7 on a summer night if everyone already knows.

For years my friends have been telling me that I am a good writer and that my life story is compelling. I have been told to write a book, but that is too daunting for the inattentive ADHD that I carry. Then they said I should start a blog. I can do that. Small chunks. Bits and pieces. And here we are.

After years of sharing my guts with those 800 people for free, I decided to take some of my Facebook posts and turn them into blog posts at http://www.anniespeaks.com

And then I took the 6 pages of my slow start attempt at writing a book and I turned that into a few blog posts. And then I started to write about whatever came to mind. To go where my thoughts led me. Where I start is not always where I end up. Some call it blather but I write about my real life. From my perspective, of course. And not necessarily in chronological order, in part because telling a tale from just your memories is imperfect. Sometimes we block stuff out when it’s traumatic and it takes another memory to remind us of the other stuff. I write about motherhood, being a nurse, married life, being a plus size woman that had a tummy tuck and breast reduction and liposuction that then took 4 months off from work to focus solely on me for the first time in my life, and my childhood and coming of age in the 70’s-80’s. I’m told it’s relatable. And here I thought I was the only one.

We were the neglected generation. The latch key kids. Chain around the neck. Don’t lose it. The mac n cheese in the yellow box with black lettering kids. The ones that raised themselves by taking the best of everyone around them. Fake it til you make it. Be who you needed.

The blog post titled “Jack-In-The-Crack” is the first post about my childhood. I come in and out of that stuff cuz it’s hard for me. I dig deep and the tears flow while I write. It’s all true. None of it is fiction. I lived that life.

And then I became a mother. Everything changes when you become a mother, if you do it right.

“Take my apples, Boy…

…and the tree was happy.”

And then both of my babies left. We became empty nesters. With a NOC nurse’s schedule. And with inattentive ADHD, supposedly caused by PTSD. Avoidance. I am much happier on my days off when I am outside making a video than I would be inside doing housework. Or feeling sorry for myself. Or focusing on the things that weigh me down.

I’d rather have fun on Facebook.

And so I am just going to keep doing me and having fun making videos sometimes. And my life story will slowly flow in between plastic surgery recovery tips and weight loss on Mounjaro posts. Cuz I think it’s helpful to my plastic surgery sisters and other people that relate to me to share my experience. I have found great support and validation in my online community.

And so far, there are way less trolls on Facebook than TikTok, just sayin’. I wonder if that is because most people use their real names on their profile or if it’s because it’s an older demographic than TikTok…or if Facebook is just better at moderating that stuff. Or maybe I finally love myself enough to not be hurt by someone else’s opinion of me. Like water off a duck’s back. Strong like Mulan. You do you, all 16 million of you, and I’m going to keep doing me.

Sometimes I’m fun. But at the very least, I’m always real.

Sit back and enjoy the ride. I know I am.

🖤💪🏼

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