In my recent new education in the world of fertility, I’ve come upon the most entertaining aspect (well, maybe not the MOST entertaining aspect) of the whole thing. Ready for it?
I always thought those women who sign their names with tickers of their childrens’ ages, or their due dates, or their menstrual cycles (TMI!!! TMI!!!) were going a bit overboard.
Oh yes, that butterfly will creep ever forward into the patch of flowers, as my precious girl (not real name, not real date, chill already) creeps into- gasp- is that…the teenage years?????? Stay, little butterfly! Stay!!
LOOK AT THE CUTE SNAIL!!! Tee hee hee hee…..
See the cute turtle? Yeah, that’s me. Since my exercise habits are nonexistent less than perfect, I have a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Turtle ain’t goin’ nowhere. Watch out for the truck, little turtle!
Yes, that’s me, slouching toward a nonexistent future vacation, old, fat, and hunchbacked. That plane’s taking off without me, people. Walk into the light, Evenshine, walk into the light…