with three minutes of "feeling things out," 40 seconds of adjusting, 4 more minutes of stretching and massage and 15 minutes of electrical stim...
I'M HEALED! HALLELUJAH, THANK DOC, I'M HEALED!!!
first thing tomorrow morning...I'm going to kiss her. bear hug, hand over the lips, full out giant fakey junior high kiss.
...maybe I'll get the digits.
my neck hurt soooo incredibly bad. bad. bad. bad. (continue with another thirty or forty thousand bads, please)
I was miserable. at first I tried to approach it with a positive attitude.
"you're tough. you're going to deliver naturally. be with the pain. don't react" et cetera...yada yada...blah.
then after three days of in(motherfucking)tractable headaches and vicious mind-numbing pain I decided...oh fuck this. labor may hurt, but not for half a damn week...
and the suki got mad. mad at my neck. mad at the world. mad at anybody and thing that crossed my path (I kicked the kid's friends out of the house without so much as a good-bye or a spare cheese stick).
and strangely enough...once again...the universe has proven to me that I'm most effective at EVERYTHING when angry. I've been trying to embrace acceptance as my motto...you know cause being preggo and all, I'd like to try to avoid a fist fight or cardiac event...
but it hasn't worked worth a damn. I'm absolutely and utterly convinced that when mellow, the world overlooks me...but when fired up and spewing heat...I'm able to create enough energy to bend things my way.
I screamed (mentally, mind you. to actually scream hurt too badly) to the cosmos that there must be SOMETHING that could be done about the pain...and that I wasn't going to take this shit one. more. day...
then she healed me. (I <3 her something fierce)
so, yeah...anyway...I'm going to kiss her. and I'll never shop at Old Navy (or any other Gap, Inc) store, again.
PACK SAND GAP, INC.
In a painful fit o' fury...I told their customer service that I would never spend a cent on their shoddy wares again. when asked if I'd like to leave my personal information along with my complaint (dude. she's a retard. the ENTIRE REASON I called is because they refused to issue me a refund without my address...and I told them I'd rather kill them first then recieve a piece of their (or their carefully chosen 'advertising partners' junk mail. so I left without my money)...
I told her, "no need. tell the 'executive offices' that they'll be able to locate me by the smoke, visible from the heavens, that will ensue when I take every last piece of clothing I've ever purchased from them and light one hella large bonfire.'
I think she tried not to laugh. either way...
PACK SAND, GAP, INC.
so with Old Navy out of the picture and my limited I-don't-work-over-the-summer budget...looks like I'll be hitting Ross, TJMaxx and thrift shops for the rest of the maternity clothes that I want...but most certainly don't need.
come to think of it...
MATERNITY CLOTHES CAN PACK IT, TOO.
...ok. I'm done, now.
2 comments:
Like i said I spent a bare minimum on my maternity stuff. I had like 4 outfits I rotated the SHIT out of. It was funny. I almost think it was b/ I wanted someone to comment on my stale assed wardrobe so I could let loose on them with my white (hormonal) rage bottled up inside. It never happened. Last trimester I swear and I would wake up and my jeans would be in a different spot in the mornings; those shits could walk by themselves.
Ok. did you leave me a message the other day? Motorola phones eat it so I got a lovely delayed 'you have a voicemail' and got it. So sorry bout that.
You'll get yer package in a day or two (with some edible things in there too) so I hope that makes you smile!
tracksuit pants, oqui's tshirts and fluffy slippers... at the shops
that's rockin the suburbs
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