The worse: starting your cycle two weeks late and then when it finally comes you are bleeding like the flood of Noah. I mean, this week has been a hard week with work, and it didn’t help to have a typhoon between my legs.
The worst: having an idea in your head all week about what you are going to wear to your going away gathering and then the zipper break (just fell apart, not from extra stress). And so they your chunky butt has to decide what to wear out of a closet where nothing really fits because you have been stuffing your face with junk for the last two months.
The worst: drinking too much and upsetting your hubby at your going away party. He says I get overly flirtatious What??? Me? And then when you think you husband is making things up, having your friend agree.
The worst: not being able to go to another going away event house at your friends house because you need some sleep
The worst: the packers are coming on Monday and it’s Sunday and you have nothing sorted out
….okay…there is a lot more worse things than what I have going on in my life….just wanted to put some stuff on paper.