In less than 48 hours!
Apparently all it takes to get this mama into her favorite pair of blue jeans
is a violent strain of gastrosomeoneshootmeintheassbeforeihavetogotothebathroomagain.
Yesterday, during a particularly bad spell, I was leaned up against the toilet, covered in sweat, suffering from what some may describe as a total psychotic meltdown. I suggested to my husband that he get some help (“CALL 911!! ARE YOU DEAF? I’M DYING!!”) but he didn’t believe me and suggested right back that I calm down (“CALM DOWN CRAZY. YOU’RE FINE!”) Personally, I didn’t like his tone but the full body chills and uncontrollable dry heaving sort of took my mind off of his unwillingness to believe that this was the end.
By the way, nothing is more demoralizing than having to spend an entire day at the mercy of the most disgusting appliance (is it even considered an appliance?) in the house. Except maybe if you don’t get to it in time. That can sort of crush the ‘ol spirit as well.
So basically my weekend has been a total crapshoot (it’s cheap, but it’s all i’ve got).
But the good news is that I’m staggering to the bathroom, lookin mighty fine (apart from the sunken eyes, intermittent hair loss, and matching bruises on my palms from what I like to call, “bracing for impact”) in a pair of jeans I haven’t been able to wear for years.
So call me, ladies, if you want to come by and catch this productive little bug; we can shoot the sh#% together.