It’s been a dud summer in Sydney this year, the temperatures have been below average and more often than not big billious black clouds roll in from the north or south dumping rain in great heavy loads with deep grumbling thunder encompassing the sky.
I couldn’t draw a better analogy to my mind at the moment.
You know, incubating four babies, pushing said babies out, feeding the beasts from my
own beasts of burden breasts and to this day allowing my body to be used for cuddles and comfort should be enough.
I feel I have paid my dues.
But no. For the last two months I have endured the most annoyingly painful ovulation processes. This month it’s the right, last month it was the left.
Then, THEN, I had dreadful pain when the poor neglected unfertilised (thank whatever God you worship) egg left it’s little home.
I had the worst period pain I’ve ever had since oh, about 1988.
And the pimples. Ugly big red cyst like pimples on my jawline and neck.