I awoke this morning to a swollen knee. This happens quite often.
My guess is, I decided to go jogging while in bed. I no longer blame my night sweats on fibro and early onset menopause. It all makes sense now.
My body hates me. La la la la.
I am just utterly disgusted at the nastiness that my earthly vessel comes up with to torture me.
My feet now tingle constantly, like they are asleep. Needles and pins. No amount of slapping or cold water wakes them up.
Most food makes me feel like throwing up, and if I can choke that back, then I have a good old-fashioned stomach-ache. I hate food now. I barely eat, but no worries. I drink enough milkshakes to ensure that I stay the size of a small farmhouse.
Three sips of coffee sends me to the bathroom. This pisses me off because I have a swollen knee. I just want to sip my favorite beverage and wake up leisurely in front of my laptop, damn it. I ain’t got time for this Mickey Mouse bullshit.
Actually, I have plenty of time.
Good morning Mer
Hey, what’s that smell?
Bad girl for eating me
Now you are unwell
There are some days when I feel like screaming, so loud that the neighbors call the police. Uh oh. That disabled lady has done gone off the deep end.
Disabled. How I dislike that word. But it’s as real as this rogue zit on my cheek.
No, not my ass cheek. My face. Give me a few days though, and I might be able to muster one up on my arse.
My body is just that hateful.