A friend of mine confided today her heartfelt wish that the Feminine Product Makers would combine the power of a Shamwow with a tampon. It would be called a Shampon. Mary is a genius and when she makes a zillion dollars from her invention, I can say I knew her when.
Today, I wish I had a box of Shampons. This girl stuff? For the effing birds. My uterus is throwing an absolute hissy fit because there’s not a baby in it, and I am dealing with the homicidal and bloody aftermath. At 46, I neither want nor need a baby unless it’s covered with fur and has four legs and comes when it is called.**
The cramps I have today? Breathtaking. Meaning I take a breath and gasp in pain with any movement, including my own heartbeat.
I was going to go work out at lunch time today. I have my “instant witch, just add candy” t shirt, tennies and sweats and my secret lucky fob to get in. Mother Nature nixed that idea. Her ideal workout for me today takes place in a dark room and involves climbing up on the couch with a blankie, heating pad, a cup of hot, strong tea and a viewing of the Practical Magic movie which I have never seen. After that movie, another cup of hot tea, chocolate, and the movie Twister which I have never seen either.***
|ok, I've seen it once or twice. And this picture might be in my bedroom, maybe.|
For now, however, I’m swallowing ibuprofen like tic tacs, plastering a fake smile on my face, and trying to just make it through the day. I would complain to my mother but I already know she would tell me to just “put your big girl undies on”.
I would do that except they’re soaking in peroxide.
**plus, I will be a grandmother soon and will hold her so often that I will be able to trick my own hormones.
***This is a filthy lie. I have seen Practical Magic so often that I can recite it word for word and have the soundtrack completely memorized. Ditto for Twister. I love me some tornados.