This morning I woke to the fact that I had apparently murdered a medium sized clown in my bed. That is the only explanation that makes any sense. Because no way that all came from me. I would be *dead* if that all came out of my body.
Between the slightly woozy from blood loss, the pain from the torn something in my back, and the cramps from hell; I can tell that today is going to be a *special* sort of day.
Whoofrockinghoo.
* offers steak and dark chocolate*
Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I know exactly how that feels.
been there. done that. The t-shirt sucks. *hugs*
Um…
Glad I’m a dude.
erm….
I guess I’ll just send some happy advil-laced thoughts your way in sympathy though…
Er…
Dice are cool…
Damn, that sucks. My sympathies as I try to encourage the gestating child to find something other than my rib to kick.;)
I sincerely hope your day got better.
If you’re reading this in the evening, have a beer unless you’ve had Tylenol. Beer will make things happier. (This is one of the valuable things my mother taught me.)
*offers chocolate and punching bag* About the only good thing about PCOS is the almost-absolute lack of periods in the first place.