This has been one heck of a week.
To highlight the minor injustices:
* I started what can only be described as the Niagra Falls of periods.
* I just discovered a pimple the size of a dime growing out of a stretch mark. How in the hell is this even possible? How did I get this gross? And seriously? When you sprout a pimple out of a stretch mark, the universe is trying to tell you something.
* I went the store tonight wearing dirty sensibles, a "Save the TaTa's" Sweatshirt and my hair pulled into a ponytail on the top of my head. It's official...I've given up.
Work has been insane this week, my daughter is channelling Joan Crawford for temper tantrums, I cant remember the last time I kissed my husband goodnight. And the worst is...we got news about our friend's wife and newborn, who underwent a completely awful, unfair fluke of a birth accident and are now fighting just to survive. This has left me feeling raw and beyond sad, helpless, thankful yet heartbroken. Those feelings wear a sister out, y'all.
So my answer to all this? Pick at the pimple (yep, I'm that gross kid). Drink Coke and eat a sleeve of Holiday Oreos. Catch up on this season's America's Next Top Model. And hope that tomorrow is a better day.
Tomorrow is another day, after all.
P.S. Hug your babies close tonight. And count your blessings.