Thursday, May 24, 2012
Our dumb dog is at the vet for bladder stone surgery. Which costs $500. 500 real American dollars. That's kind of a lot of dollars. Especially for a free dog that was supposed to be inexpensive. We had her fixed. The end. Except then we had to replace the blinds that she destroyed and the curtains and the laptop and the paint on the door frames. Then we had to replace every pair of underwear in the house plus every single pair of my pajama pants and three pairs of blue jeans. And now the bladder stone surgery which follows 2 $200 vet visits in which they tried to determine what was wrong with her in the first place. I have a bald spot on the back of my head. And my husband does not understand why "It is not that big a deal" is not a helpful thing to say to me. I have a fucking bald spot. I realize that it is not exactly genocide or war orphans or those kids with the flies on their eyeballs. I will probably be over it by tomorrow. But right now, I would like to sob inconsolably over my big fucking bald spot that came from no fucking where in peace. Like he wouldn't be upset if he started turning into (non)fucking Quasimodo. My IBS has been overactive the last 2 weeks, and yet for some reason I cannot seem to lose any weight. I'm sure you are glad that I shared that little detail of my life with you. I am a giver, is what I am. A fat, broke, balding giver. My mom's hours have been cut in half at her job. Which means she will start needing money from me again. Which I don't have. Because the dog. And also whatever amount of money I have to give my hairdresser to fix this baldness shit. As long as it doesn't involve hair extensions. I don't know why. Except I'm in a contrary mood and I want my own fucking hair back. Give me things that are impossible. GIVE THEM. I'm 30. Which is fine, except apparently everything in the media is all "30?! That's so gross! Minus 12 billion hotness points, Old Person!You might as well just have your sex organs removed now and die because it's not like anyone will want to have sex with you. Your husband is a total liar who is picturing an 18 year old when he has to sleep with you." Because the balding and the fatness aren't enough. My endometriosis is getting worse again. It feels like someone wrapped several strands of barbed wire around my midsection and now they are trying to cut me in half with it. Which may also explain the baldness freakout and the oldness freakout. I'm going to take, like, 8 Midol and go to sleep now. And maybe a Valium wouldn't hurt anything either.