07.20.06 :: 12:48 pm

the mere scheduling of a gyno appointment sends me into paroxysms of anxiety the likes of which can only be cured by hypnotism and simultaneous acupuncture and electroshock.

I was fine last time. Clean and clear and disease free. So what's my problem?? Why do I think that I now have Stage 3 cancer rotting my ute?

In happier news, even though I have a hairline fracture in my foot, I can still do the stupid recumbent bike and take pilates and my weights-and-abs class. So the burning of calories continues, unabated and with borderline hysteria.

I may or may not have body dysmorphia but I don't care. Anything not to go back to eating 12 cheese pies in a sitting in front of the TV.

In sadder news, *cue Europe's "The Final Countdown (doo doo DOOdooo, doo doo DOODOODOOOOO)* Ruby's farewell is coming up right around the corner and don't you know my tiny piece of coal heart just sinks, sinks, sinks.

YOU TAKE THE GOOD, YOU TAKE THE BAD,
YOU TAKE THEM BOTH AND THERE YOU HAVE
THE FACTS OF LIFE
THE FACTS OF LIFE

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