This will be as close to discussing my innards as I will ever get.
I will not tell you the problem--only the "cure" as prescribed by my doctor.
*deep breath*
I have to take 4 pills of the hormone regulating variety a day for a few days.
4.
It is not to control my freakish fertility, so shut yer yaps. It remains to be seen if it will solve the problem, but the side effects are killing me. I feel like a 13 year old girl with all of these surging hormones. I want to hang Andy Gibb posters in my locker and put on some Bonne Belle bubble gum lip gloss. I have a sudden urge to write down the lyrics of Peter Gabriel songs. I have a craving for Funyons and Mountain Dew. And I am this close to donning on some leg warmers while lip syncing to "Xanadu." I think the only thing I haven't done is pick a fight with my mother.
Oddly, and whether or not related is unknown, but this week has been an odd culmination of time and opportunity domestically speaking. I have not only turned in all of my freelance assignments early and somehow managed to keep the visible house almost respectable, but today I cleaned the refrigerator and oven. I know, I know. Those nonpareil sprinkles that Amy spilled in the vegetable drawer and that turned into a solid sheet of rainbow shellac, is now gone. Hold your applause, please. Dinner is bubbling away on the stove, the kids are bathed, and I am one organized--although pre-pubescent--girl.
Excuse me while I go weep now over a particularly poignant episode of "Full House."
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2 comments:
Bubble gum Bonne Bell? Everyone knows the Dr. Pepper flavour is the one that rocks! *grin* You only need to start worrying if you begin dotting all of your i's with hearts, and wearing glitter.
WHat if I start ending all of my sentences with, like, 4 or more exclamation points!!!! I think that's a sign, too!!!!!
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