bleargh

This is a conversation I had with my Uterus yesterday:

Me: (at work doing at-work things)

Uterus: Hello! Remember me?

Me: Why does my back hurt so bad all of a sudden?

Uterus: I said hello! I know it's been months and months, but I thought I'd pop in and see how you're doing.

Me: T-- I need to go to the bathroom right now can you take over my register?

Uterus: Look, I brought this gift for you! You can still have babies!

Me: Uuuugggghhhhhsssssssss....

And so here I am, my only day off work this week, all sore and squishy and not really up to doing much of anything. So I think it's time for a Letter to the Aether!

Dear Uterus (I'm going to call you Bertha from now on).

Dear Bertha,

It's nice to know that at least one of my ovaries is still functioning, true, but it'd be nicer if you'd give me just the teensiest bit more warning before dropping in after three months. Like, an hour before hand when I'm getting ready for work, and noticing that my bra isn't fitting right-- that's not enough warning. You're just lucky I had a pad in my purse, because that's my only pair of khakis for work, and I'd be very put out otherwise.

Love, Me

ps: If I wind up on I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant because of you, we Will Have Words.