Argh. I've gotta have surgery. Gall bladder this time. People (I'm talking to all three of you) you don't want to have gall stones. Bad, very bad. Pain like you can't imagine. Then there's the throwing up, the pain, the intestinal adventures, the pain, the feeling that your next meal may try to kill you, the pain...are you getting the picture?
Dr. SIL says that she's much happier without hers, that now she can eat anything she wants with no problem. I wonder if she wants to eat as many chicken wings as I do.
No matter, the offending organ will be dispatched with no regrets and then I will be free to ogle the donuts again. But I wonder if I will want to because one of the 'good' side effects from all this food drama is the aversion to fatty foods and large portions of anything that I've developed. And the liquid diets in the wake of recent attacks have resulted in some impressive weight loss.
All this is to say that my boobs look bigger. Woo hoo. Well, at least I can get into my smaller jeans just in time for summer when it's too hot to wear them.
No, nothing makes me happy right now. Constant pain can make a person cranky.