• Khloe KarBash-u-in

Slaybretooth Tiger#911

“Where is home?” A question people often ask to get to know a person. Usually it’s a pretty straightforward answer. For me, it’s slightly more complicated. I was born in Alberta, Canada. Even though I only lived there for 4 years of my life, it still feels like home every time I visit. We picked up and moved to Montevallo, Alabama where I lived until I was 11. Many of my fondest childhood memories (and some not so fond) are from this time period. I have visited Alabama twice since leaving and I still marvel in it’s beauty and warmth. When I was 11 we moved to Ellensburg, Washington. That windy town would be my home for nearly 17 years. Just the thought of living anywhere for that long is crazy to me, time really flies! It was in Ellensburg where I first joined roller derby, and derby eventually lead me to Caldwell, Idaho. When people say “home is where the heart is,” they really mean it, no matter how many pieces of your heart are strewn about. So for me, home is: Canada, Alabama, Washington, Idaho - and the track.


Now that we have a little bit of a timeline to go off of, let’s talk about how I found roller derby and why I needed it. Every skater you ask will tell you that derby fell into their lap right when they needed it the most. Some had extra time on their hands and needed something to do, others (myself included) were lost and emotionally empty.


I try not to dwell on the negative experiences from my past, but I know that they have shaped me into the person I am today. For that, I have found solace and forgiveness.


I keep to myself a lot. If you follow me on social media, you may notice that I don’t post very often and when I do, it’s usually a repost of a funny animal video. However, those who have spent time with me off the track will find that I’m an open book once I get to talking. My story can be shorted to “I have been a victim of sexual assault, I can’t bare children, I have an autoimmune disease, I am a cancer survivor, I came out of the closet way too late in life, and I manage this because I have Roller Derby.” If you want the long version, get comfy - here we go:


As a five year old, adults try to warn you of the dangers or the world - but for such an innocent mind it’s hard to express the ugly in the world that you need to be aware of. Sometimes that ugliness comes disguised as a family friend. At that age, you may feel that something isn’t quite right about what happened, but you brush it off; he moved away so there’s no reason to fear seeing him again. Then you get a little older and it happens again, but this time it’s a peer. She warns you that if you tell anyone, she will lie to make it seem like it was your idea. Then you start to realize that...no, this isn’t right. Someone who cared about me would definitely not do or say these things. This time, it was you who moved away. You convince yourself that it’s okay and there’s nothing to fear because she’s thousands of miles away. Even then, it still continues to haunt you. As a teenager, depression started to wiggle it’s way into my life.


I spent so many of my teenage years feeling broken and too embarrassed to tell anyone about what happened to me as a kid. I didn’t end up even telling anyone in my family until after high school graduation. So I lived with it alone and it festered for nearly 13 Years. My confidence was shot. Some people who have gone through this, can relate that they have to have something in their life to control because they can’t control these negative thoughts and feelings. For some, it’s a demanding relationship, drugs, alcohol, eating disorders, self harm, etc. I had a small bout with minor self harm and not eating, but all in all - I got lucky with how I gain control: my work. I took control in most group projects, I was in Honor Society, and spent my free time after school Stage Managing the theatre productions for my school. I kept busy to keep my mind busy. I also felt that drugs and alcohol were the complete opposite of control, and avoided them entirely.


A huge weight was lifted off of me when I finally told someone, but I still couldn’t move past it. The pivotal point and action that got me to the level of acceptance and forgiveness I needed was getting a tattoo. I got the words, “Scars are souvenirs you will never lose” permanently scribed into the middle of my shoulders. These words are lyrics to my favorite song, “Name” by The Goo Goo Dolls. “The past is never far,” are the words that follow that lyric. It reminds me that you can’t run from your past experiences. Your experiences shape you into who you are, but they don’t have to define you.


I went on to graduate from Central Washington University with a Major in Law and Justice. During this time, I re-acquainted myself with a friend I had known since we were 11. He and I dated, became best friends and eventually got married. Now you are probably confused because I mentioned in the beginning that I “came out of the closet” way too late in life. Well, the truth is that he was my best friend. We accomplished so many awesome things together! The truth is that I spend a lot of time in doubt, worried about what society and my family would think. I have known since middle school but it just seemed too hard and too scary to admit to anyone. I had a girlfriend in high school and a few lady dates after high school. However, heteronormativity seemed like an alright way to go, especially it it was with my best friend.


I wanted to get married and have children, so that’s what we did. We got married, bought a house, and decided to start a family. I wanted nothing more in life than to be a mom. I wanted to have someone who loves me in the same way and magnitude that I love my mother. While we were planning to have a baby, I heard that there was a roller derby team in town. I wanted so badly to play, but held back. What if I became pregnant? A few years went by with no luck. Eventually, I ended up taking my basal temperature every morning before I got out of bed (I highly recommend the FEMometer), using ovulation strips, and getting way too excited when my time of the month was a few days late. I spent so many endless nights wishing tomorrow wouldn’t come so I could just lay in bed and sleep. I lost interest in doing anything fun and kept myself from social situations so I didn’t have to be confronted with the questions. “When are you going to have kids?” “Are you pregnant yet?” “Don’t you want kids?”


Almost 7 years went by and we ended up having all of these tests done. Many visits to the doctor and specialist, two sonohysterograms, and seventeen vials of blood later would conclude that aside from my hypothyroid, polycystic ovaries and next to zero Vitamin D...everything looked alright. I received so many pamphlets on all the latest fertility treatments. Between the cost of treatments and the cost it would take me emotionally to try them, with a high likelihood of failure, I just couldn’t. I kept thinking that if this is how I feel now after so many years of lost hope, it would crush me to try this and fail again. Therefore, I slowly tried to accept the fact that I would never carry a child or birth one. Secret’s out, I’m not the biggest fan of Mother’s Day. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom so much and the fact that we celebrate our mothers. However, that particular day every year brings me back to church and reminds me of how they handed out flowers on Mother’s Day - not only to the moms, but to all the young women because they were going to be mothers too one day.


I’ll always be that person who can’t pipe up in a conversation about a child’s behavior because I will be fronted with the “you don’t have kids” comment. You’re right, I don’t even have kids. Thank you. At this point, it’s hard to say how sensitive I was to these types of comments depending on the day. Sometimes, I had no shame in telling people I was a barren woman. Other times, I would loudly celebrate that I am a rocking Aunt of six crazy kids, so I can’t be fully discredited. It’s not like I’ve never cared for a small homosapien in their natural habitate before.


The hardest part of my fertility struggle is growing up in a culture that told me I WAS going to be a mom. Maybe I was wanting it for my parents, for my husband, and for his parents. When I gave up, I didn’t just feel like I gave up on myself, but that I gave up on everyone who had been hoping and praying this for me. I am not active in the religion I grew up in, but it’s still a huge part of my life. I eventually ended up asking my father to rally the troops and give me a blessing. I made it clear though - I do not want this blessing to have kids, I want this blessing to comfort me and get me through the reality that I won’t.


Between the depression of not being able to have kids and other personal struggles, I looked more into roller derby while I was visiting my husband at the Air Force base in Spokane. I found out that their team was practicing that night at the local roller rink and went to check it out. I sat down on a bench off to the side and watched as they warmed up and started to get into some drills. Here is the moment that I got hooked: A skater, roughly the size of me was doing a drill, when along comes this other skater who was much larger in stature (appropriately named Tank), and he just clears her out - BAM! I was like “HOLY FITTED SHEETS, yeah, this is what I want to do. I want to be that skater!” I was talking about the one who got cleared out. Knowing I would be getting blown up like that was the sold sign hanging on my brand new house of derby. I bought all of my gear that day at that rink, read the rule book twice, and started my roller derby journey the next day.


I joined the Rodeo City Rollers on August 31, 2016. I didn’t know anyone on the team and had never skated on quad skates. I mean, I rollerbladed a bit when I was a kid but that was about it. I rolled up to practice early, which was held at an outdoor hockey rink because I wanted to scope it out before I went for it. Coach saw that I could skate fairly well for someone who has never been on quads, and asked me if I could transition, which I had practiced the day before in my kitchen and I was like “yea, here…” and mid-transition I biffed it. I gave it another go and was successful but obviously still needed work. I completely fell in love with derby culture and quads.


My Luitenant gave me my derby name, Tiger. Shout out to him for that and also being a huge derby fan in general! I jumped head-first into derby and almost 2 months later, in October 2016, I became a drafted skater at RCR. The first Roller Derby Bout I ever saw, I skated in (December 2017 RCR vs Dockyard). People joked that I loved derby so much that the cute freckle on my face was heart-shaped from all the love.





I completely immersed myself in Roller Derby. It gave me happiness, courage, strength, confidence and the closest friends I have ever had. It also made me more comfortable with who I was. Even with derby though, I was still at another low point - here I was with a great job and a great house, but with personal issues (trouble in paradise stemming from both of us). No amount of derby could mask the internal struggle I was having. Trust me, I tried. My spouse had known that I wasn’t completely straight, but not to what extent. Throughout the years we had many conversations about divorce but always agreed to work on it more. Truth is, we were much better friends for each other than we were spouses.


In the beginning of summer 2017, my husband and I agreed to take a break. We wanted to see other people, but still live together and see how things went. But if I’m being completely honest...looking back, deep down I’m sure I knew what was happening, and it was the easiest way to let him down.


A month or so after that I went to a Derby Daze, a Roller Derby training camp in Portland. I wasn’t originally going to go, but something pulled me to do it. I missed RCRs appearance at the very last Iron Horse Dirtbag Carnival (Sorry guys!) and I felt so bad about it, but still needed to go for reasons unknown. I got off my 12 hour shift at the jail at 6am on Friday, went home and took a two hour nap, then woke up and drove to Portland for Derby Daze. I arrived super early and decided to take a walk on the beach at Oaks Park, which was the loneliest feeling I have ever had. I had hours to spend time inside my own, learning about who I was and what I was doing with my life. More hours were spent thinking about how much I have been hurting my husband in the first place, by becoming his wife because I was in denial about myself. There is no denying that our relationship wasn’t the best “marriage,” but we were a pretty good partnership. All of the hardwork and things we have accomplished together, the years of memories - thinking about it all coming down was all stifling to me. We both had our issues that drove us apart, but mine could have saved us both from this heartache if I could have just accepted it myself in the first place.


Setting the scene: Derby Daze 2017 in the parking lot of Rose City’s Hanger. Around 7pm, the sun is still out, it’s hot and all of us derby peeps are standing around chatting. There is a lively MC talking with a fake microphone having us all get into groups of 6 or so while another derby pep hands out Skittles to everyone.


I did something I never do, I extroverted. I spotted Beet City from across the pavement. I walked over and was like “hey, we JUST played you!” I got to chat with some of them who remembered me, and joined that group for the next ice breaker - Ninja. This is a game where you have one chance to move, someone comes at you with one chopping motion and you have one opportunity to move. So there we all are, standing in a corner chopping our neighbor when one of the skaters leaps ACROSS the circle to chop their victim. Only issue is…the whole thing took long enough for the victim to move and now this skater was in the middle open to everyone to Ninja her out. In the end, I became the Ninja Champion of our group. The group mingled some more and that leaping skater decided to chat me up. She said,“I bet I can guess your weight within 5 pounds, or your birthday within 5 days.” All the sudden, I flew into the air and she was sqauting me. While I was up in the air I thought, surely this won’t last long. But it did…she held me up in their air and then dropped into a squat for probably a whole minute or so. Then, she guessed and she was correct! We all talked a bit longer but I couldn't stop looking at her. She was charming, she was funny, and she was beautiful.


The night was winding down and people were leaving, my original group had already gone over to the skate shop and this group was trying to make their way over there as well. Except for one, R.I.P. Tide, her and I went to get a Derby Daze shirt. The whole time I was waiting in line I was thinking that I had to talk to that girl again. But there were some skaters in front of me taking their sweet time trying to figure out if they had different things in different sizes and changing their purchases. I was getting so antsy, thinking that I wouldn’t have time to go talk to her now. Once I got what I wanted, RIP and I walked back over to the skate shop. I had no need to be in there, I already had my dream skates (#MOTAvated) and all the gear I needed. I had one goal: talk to her again. I began to beat myself up for not getting her number or her real name. Then all of the sudden, there was a phone in my face and when I looked up, it was her.


After our digits were exchanged, that group left and I hung out for just a little while longer, relishing in what just happened. I walked out to my car and on my way Mama Trauma is leaning over from the passenger side yelling out the driver’s door “HEY RODEO!” (She didn’t know my actual skater name so she yelled what she knew). I walked over and invited them out to karaoke (which I later learned is a HUGE thing with this team), but they all had plans. So I left and went to Karaoke just down the road. I don't know the name of the bar, but I call it the Penguin Bar because it has a Penguin on the sign. After a fun night we went back to the house and I got some sleep, after I added that girl on Facebook of course. There’s a whole lot more to this story but for the sake of this blog, we will fast forward to the end of Derby Daze. If you want the unabridged version, just let me know. I was exhausted and still had a 6 hour drive home, so I gathered my things and left in a true introvert fashion - silently with no eye contact. Just before I got in my car, she came over and said bye and let me tell you, I was so awkward about it and I beat myself up about it the whole way home.



I arrived home and my routine set back into motion. Work, then derby, work again, and some more derby. Derby was this blessing that found me and when I have my gear on, I am complete. I loved my job even though it sometimes was from 6pm to 6am, the night shift really wasn’t so bad.


Then one day I get this message, its her. It’s that skater from Derby Daze. We end up chatting every now and then throughout the week, then it turned into every day, and then it turned into the best part of my day. Over the next few months we hung out a few times. She came to one of my away bouts that wasn’t too far for her to travel and our relationship blossomed quickly. My world was changing and neither of us expected any of this to happen. I felt so alive, and so happy for the first time in a long time. The only problem was that she lived hours away. It was different with her, different from anything else I have ever experienced. This is was what I wanted and not what I thought I needed to do because of society.


On my way home after hanging out in Boise for the weekend, I couldn’t stop thinking about the life I built and how much I was going to break my spouse’s heart; I didn’t want to “see other people”...I wanted out. I pulled over on the lookout that is above Ellensburg and just lost it. I felt sick with the two choices I had: stay in something that didn’t make me happy or crush his heart. I knew there was no way I could continue living this way. It wasn’t fair for either of us to continue. So, I came out and told him that we need to make this final. He was devastated, as expected. After talking through some things, he handled it pretty well. I ended up moving into a room down the hall (guys we owned a home together, I’m not just going to leave my person of 8 years high and dry). This was the arrangement until we decided what we were going to do. Meanwhile, my feelings for this girl made me feel like I was soaring. We talked about staying long distance, but we both knew that would be so hard.


I noticed a change since I started derby, but it wasn’t the obvious change that was happening around me. This time, it was my face. That cute heart freckle on my cheek was changing. I went to a Dermatologist, he looked it over and asked about my history. He said it looked slightly suspicious and I could have it removed if I wanted to, but he understood if I wanted to keep it. That cute little heart on my face was what I was known for, like a trademark. As much as I hated to see it go, I figured I better just do it, it's just a freckle it’s not going to make me any less ME. So he took it and sent it for testing.



Days went on as normal as they could when you live with your separated spouse as a flatmate. My life remained the same, aside from the fact I now had routine doctor’s visits and you know, coming home late in hopes to not make it any more awkward than it already is. One Friday I was getting ready for the night shift. It was just after 5pm and I got a phone call from the doctor. He was calling me after hours about my results, saying he was just about to leave for the weekend but just got my results in. It went a little something like this: “I usually like to bring my clients in to go over their results face to face, but I just got yours back as I was about to leave the office and needed to call you. You have a very aggressive form of melanoma. We need to discuss what we need to do immediately. I have already scheduled you an appointment with the surgery center in Seattle next week. They will be performing a Mohs procedure where they cut around the area and test all the edges. If it comes back positive they will have to cut again until they come back with a clean sample. Based on how much they have to remove, you may need plastic surgery to reconstruct that area.” It was in that moment, where I realized ‘guys, this is it. We only do this once and we don't even know for how long. I’m moving to Idaho as soon as I can. I don’t want to wait on my happy ending to be convenient.’ As you can imagine, I was shocked. I was crying and tried to pull myself together to ask questions before he got off the phone. He went over it all again and let me know that he would be in contact again next week after I had some time to process and get ready. My mind was racing, hindsight - I probably should have called in sick that night. But I went to work to keep my mind busy and off that subject. I called my mother before my shift and broke down crying while I was parked outside of my work. I don’t even remember if I told any of my co-workers that night. I am now thinking that I must have at least told my Commander because I needed some time off at short notice for emergency surgery, plus recovery time.


The day after I found out, I got home and applied for every position in the Treasure Valley that paid decently enough to at least pay the bills. If you know me, you know that I am a doer. I will do whatever it takes once my mind is made up. I'm a Taurus.



The first surgery appointment was upon me. My mom and I drove to Seattle a day early so we could be ready for what the next 4 or 5 days was bringing us. Looking back, I was a champ. I remember laughing and having a blast with my mom the whole ride over. I wasn’t going to let cancer make me miserable. Instead, I was going to look it in the eyes and kick it in the ass while smiling. We got up and went to the first appointment where they were to perform the Mohs procedure. They said they were going to cut just around the freckled site. I thought I heard 10mm out from the edge of it…turns out it was much more than that. Anyway, I was awake for the whole thing. In fact, I started counting how many times they stabbed the needle into various parts of my face to numb me. I got to 47 but that was missing some. Then they took a little knife and cut a circle through the layers of my face, and lifted it to continue cutting the bottom from where they wanted. They didn't quite get me numb enough, you would think 50+ pokes would do the job but it didn't, so they had to do more through the now opened wound. Once I was fully numb, they cut the bottom portion and remove the piece, I saw them place this fatty yellow and bloody part of my face into a jar for testing. They went in to the wound again and cauterized it…horrible smell guys. Just gross. They couldn't stitch me up, because that was the plastic surgeons job. They covered up my gaping hole (that looked like pepperoni on my face) with bandages, and they would call me to tell me if they needed more cut off or if I was scheduled with the surgeon. So...having nothing better to do than sit in a hotel and mope, I decided I was well enough to go shopping. We went out to the mall and I got some new interview clothes. I even sat on Santa's lap and got my picture taken. Eating dinner that night proved slightly difficult since I couldn't really move much due to the bandage, but it was manageable enough. Plus, we got a call saying that I didn’t need to go back, so eating was a celebration.



My plastic surgery was the next night so we had some time to kill. I got a call from a place I applied to in Boise and they wanted to interview me the day after my surgery. I explained to them that I was actually from out of state and undergoing a medical procedure this week but could be down there the following week. They scheduled my interview out further without question. I had my first job interview in Idaho, which was followed by two more in Boise. As the night before the plastic surgery came to an end, we ordered pizza because I was not allowed to eat for 24 hrs pre-surgery. I laid down that night to fall asleep while we watched some random tv shows and all the sudden I didn’t feel right. I got hot, cold, sweaty and nauseous all at once. I went to the bathroom and hugged the bowl, fearing for the worst… and the worst came. . . all night long. The coldness of the tile floor in the bathroom was the only thing that was comforting me, and if you know me, you know I HATE BEING COLD more than anything. So all night I went from laying on the cold bathroom floor to losing all the contents of my stomach - even when there was nothing left. Surprisingly enough, I got through the whole day, we told the surgeon what happened and they still were good with putting me under. I was honestly scared they would make me wait until I wasn't sick to sew me up.



I’ve had other surgeries. I got my tonsils removed when I was 5, and my wisdom teeth removed at 17, so I don't remember the tonsils and the teeth being an easy thing to get over. Being in a rolling bed, hooked up to IVs and monitors was a bit shocking, but I was so glad they were putting me under to complete the task. At this point, I had not yet given into the fear and realization of what was actually happening to me (the cancer, the permanent scarring, and everything that would follow). My mother on the other hand, what a trooper. I know that face. She was being so strong for me, but I knew it was tearing her apart to have to see her daughter go through this. But if you didn’t know her as well as I do, you wouldn’t know. You would just see a mom and daughter having a blast with a terrible situation. Especially when she started commenting on the handsome young doctor (don’t worry dad, he’s got nothing on you) and the amount of giggling coming from our little tented cubical thing. They rolled me back and told me to breath in and count. I have this thing, I did it with my wisdom teeth and I did it with this, where I try to remember how high I counted to see how long it took me not to give into the drugs. Unfortunately, I didn’t get very fair...I think it was only 12. I woke up to my mom taking photos of me on her phone, she thinks she is so funny.




They prescribed me heavy duty pain meds that I didn’t end up taking because, well, I couldn’t really feel my face. The most painful parts were talking, smiling, and eating but it was mostly because my face was stretched and sewn together. Really, the most painful part was when the stitches were ready to come out because my skin was swollen and itchy. Even after my stitches were out, it was still the weirdest feeling. I joked and told people “this is what Dolly Parton must feel like everyday!” My dad joked and told me I talked like the Prime Minister of Canada and everyone thought the stitches looked bad-ass. That, I have to agree on. However, I do still wonder what the employers were thinking when I stepped into my interviews with a face full of stitches. Didn’t seem to scare them away though, I got a call back from all of them and ended up choosing one with a start date of January 15.



So, I was really doing it. I was really packing up and leaving everything I had ever known. Every friend and family member that was close to me. Leaving the best job I will ever have with the best coworkers I could ever imagine. Moving to a new state where I knew a couple people, but only because we hit each other on the track for an hour once. But you know what? I wasn’t scared, I felt like this was the right move for me.


So I ended up moving in with another rollergirl (all my gratitude Dirty Dani). Turns out, she had a room open and I was able to help her by staying in it and finishing out the lease. Then, I moved in with another rollergirl (forever grateful Java) while trying to find a place to call home. Roller derby gave me an instant Idaho family, just add skates. It's like that everywhere with derby, it’s just a loving community.


For a long time, people on the team didn’t know that I moved here because I fell in love with one of their own. We don’t really give any clues that we are a couple during practice or Beet City events, and that's how it should be. When it’s time to focus, we focus. The only difference is that we actually avoid partnering with each other. I hadn’t even skated on a line up with her for the whole first season I was with BCB. But let me tell you that when we do skate together in a line, it’s magical. We know exactly what the other is going to do - it’s pretty rad. Anyway, we slowly let people in on our private life and it was quite amusing to see the reactions of people who literally had no idea.



Fast forward a bit, I got a new job closer to where I live, and actually in the realm of what I went to college for. It’s pretty great! I don’t really talk about my personal life at work. Mostly I didn’t want everyone’s first impression to be “the Gay”...we live in Idaho, that’s not the best move. I wanted to be known more for “the new girl who is grasping everything quickly, who has an awesome work ethic and takes amazing notes!” I’ve come out to some extended family members and each time my heart has been filled with more love. There’s a lot of people in my family, so I am sure I am not the only one. I feel pretty comfortable with where I am at in my coming out journey, and this blog post is bound to inform many people for me; I am good with that. It’s taken me a long time to be accepting of myself. I just hope that people can see me for my kindness, humor, hard work, dedication, etc.


You never really stop to think about what other people might be struggling with. That's something I am facing now. I am the happiest I have ever been, yet recently, I have been struggling with the late realization of what I have been through: Cancer. And just like those lyrics I have tattooed between my shoulders, “scars are souvenirs you never lose.” For the most part, I am pretty light hearted about my scar because I’m alive. That cute little heart would have killed me. I’ve been lucky enough to hold jobs out of the public eye, but never really attributed that to happiness until recently. In my current job, I am faced with the public all day. So now, all of the sudden, after a year of having my face mangled, I am just now getting bombarded with commentary. It is earth shaking. I’ve lived with this for a while with not one person saying anything about it and now, it’s happening quite frequently. Most of the time I don’t mind my scar. I can tell people crazy stories like “I used to work in a jail, stuff happens”, and “I volunteered at a zoo and the Tiger got out and that’s how I got my Derby name”, or “I was in a bar fight,” etc. Sometimes, it gets too much for me to handle.



Rollergirls, you all know the feeling when you put your bout makeup on and then go to the store because you forgot your water or a snack… the one where everyone stares at your face like “what the heck is going on there!?” That…It’s like that, but everyday. Still, I keep pushing through, living life and loving life because we only get one. I try so hard to not get wrapped up in the little things and appreciate what life has to offer. Let me tell you, getting cancer is a sure fire way to kick your butt into gear and reach for what you want in your life. Don't wait until you think you are dying to get what you want and deserve.



I hope that I can inspire someone who is struggling with themselves to reach out and start discovering the happiness they can have. Whether it’s coming out, speaking up about past trauma, depression/anxiety, having an illness - really, anything you are going through, there is someone out there who has been through it.


Thank you Rodeo City for bringing out the best in me, and showing me that I am and I can. Thank you to my family for loving me, my partner, and the kiddo (that’s right guys, I’m a bonus mom). I also want to thank the father of said kiddo for being an outstanding human being, and I’m so happy to call you my family. But I really want to thank each person involved with the Beet City Bombers for being my family away from family. Living in another state from everyone you know isn’t so tough when you have this kind of support on and off the track. Thank you for taking time to read my shortened, but still long story!


Love,

Slaybretooth Tiger #911






0 views

© 2015 Beet City Bombers