Sweet merciful crap...

You can see by the change in picture that I'm dealing with some new challenges right now.

Yeah, not fun.

My cramps have cramps.

I feel like my insides are being scooped out by one of those melon ballers. And not a super nice melon baller that you'd get at Williams Sonoma, no. I'm talking your bargain basement, Dollerama, no smooth edges melon ballers.

Ouch.

This is relatively new to me in the grand scheme of things. One somewhat good thing about having my reproductive issues is that I don't have good ole aunt flo come to visit all that often. Now that we're doing this whole fertility clinic thing, I'm up to about 8 cycles over the past year. That's pretty much three years worth of crampy fun all squished into 12 danged months.

I'm not a fan.

I seriously don't understand how you 28 day girls with bad PMS survive. Or more specifically, those around you survive. 'Cause right now, I could fell a rhino with my bare hands if it crossed my path or tried to take the remote.

They're that kind of cramps.

Doesn't help that the boys are still at the house playing their boy games. I know it's completely irrational, but even people speaking is grating at my last nerve. No rhyme or reason, just the very noise coming from my dining room is enough to make me go postal.

I think if there ever was a day for a LUSH bath bomb it's today.

Maybe I won't hear the chatter all the way up in my ensuite.

So a short entry today, but it's better this way. For everyone.

Especially rhinos.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?