Sometimes it really sucks being a girl. Particularly one week out of every month really sucks to be a girl. I really should preface this post with this warning/disclaimer: If you are squeamish or don’t want to hear about my cycle, you should go look at my pictures on flickr or read someone else’s blog today.
OK. Where was I? Oh right. Cycles. Anyway, I’ve always suffered from cramps, because, well, life is cruel. However, lately, they’ve been debilitatingly bad. I mean, the kind of bad where you lay helplessly on whatever surface it is you’ve fallen on and cry and think ohgodpleasekillmenow and hope someone will put you out of your misery. Let me also back up a little and say that I have a fairly high pain tolerance. So when I say I am crying from the pain, it’s really that bad. (For comparison, I once got hit in the head with a metal bat and laughed. Thank god it was a slow swing first thing in the morning at the bus stop before school. I should stop there. This is starting to sound kinda of bad.)
Yesterday was the second time I’ve left work because of cramps. How lame is that? It’s just stupid. And frustrating. I am declaring right here and right now that my uterus is available for science. As in, someone please remove it and take it away. I have no need or use for it.
On the up side of going home because of stupid cramps, I laid on the couch with a heating pad and a bottle of motrin and some yarn and some needles. The yarn and needles were there to keep my mind off the pain and also to knit a noose should the need arise or just stab myself with a plastic needle because that should really hurt and maybe it’ll hurt even more than the cramps. Just kidding! I’d hate to get my knitting needles dirty.
Anyway, I’ve got a good bit of another scarf knit up. I have no picture for you because my batteries were dead and recharging and that meant getting off the heating pad and yesterday I didn’t love you guys enough to leave the heating pad. In fact, the only time I wasn’t on the heating pad was when I was warming it back up in the microwave. I’ll probably love you more tomorrow and show you the scarf then. So long as I remember to put the batteries back in the camera.
One more reason to be a guy, as if I had a choice.
At least you get you own boobs, as if you had a choice.