So A Tampon & A Maxi Pad Walk Into A Bar…..

Today’s post is full of foul; don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I have Endometriosis. Yesterday, mother nature dropped her bomb and today I’m auctioning off my uterus to the lowest bidder. Hell, I’ll give the bitch away.

I wish I could adequately describe the pain in my lower back to those who don’t suffer from this shittastic monthly problem. Let’s just say me and my heating pad have an understanding even though he’s burned me a time or twenty.

Now let’s talk about the bloating that also accompanies the menses.

I. Look. Pregnant.

Early second trimester. It’s ridiculous. Fortunately, I have yet to be a victim of “oh you’re pregnant!” because it wouldn’t end well for the person that uttered those words. I would most likely throat punch them then follow it up with a Go Fuck Yourself.

And to top it all off I have a really bad attitude right now. This is the ONLY time of the month that I can say anything to anyone and have no regrets. None. Zero. Zilch.

I’m like a bad infomercial.

“Do you need to tell someone off but don’t know how?? Well here’s your chance folks. Call 1-900-oliveoylmomma and for the low rate of just .10 cents a minute she’ll gladly tell every rat bastard mother fucker that’s ever done you wrong or looked at you cross eyed where to go and exactly how to get there. Don’t delay, call today!”

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Now, some of you may be thinking, “this crazy bitch needs a doctor!” Well I have one. And her answer was Prozac. Let me tell you what THAT did. It took the edge off. So my filter was slightly thicker, but I still told random strangers to eat shit and die.

Normally I’m a really, really nice person. I like to bake cookies and shit. And cuddle with puppies.

But not today. Tomorrow isn’t looking good for me either.

So there you have it. Once a month every month I’m an asshole.

Thanks for stopping by!

Olive Oyl Momma

P.S. Today I’m not laughing BUT, I would like to so please, tell me something funny. Anything. I’ll only ask nicely once and then you know what could happen…

This Can’t Be Right – The Mysteries of Mom Boobs

I know I’m not the only mom that has ever questioned: what happened to my boobs?

These are not the fun bags I remember from years past.

First of all let’s face it, they’re not “fun” anymore. These two fatty areas on our chests used to be perky. They resided where they were supposed to; up HIGH. Personally I like to refer to my breasts as rocks in socks. Tube socks if we’re being specific.

Yes, once upon a time, they were the wells of life that nourished my children. And it was a beautiful thing.

But now, now they more closely resemble a deflated balloon animal. A snake maybe.i-feel-deflated

I hate putting on a bra. It’s a cardio workout all of its own. And it’s not like I have been gifted with anything above average. It’s the simple fact that to make those puppies look halfway decent one must perform the tasks of lifting, tucking, squishing and popping to try and make those ‘ol things fit somewhat comfortably in the cups.

And what’s up with laying down? Please tell me dear reader that you know what I’m getting ready to say. You know that I’m going to talk about the way these pesky lumps of tissue fall to the sides upon laying down without a brassiere on. Somehow they magically find their way to our armpits. It’s almost like boobs are the female version of testicles and they’re withdrawing inward.

Funny story.

One night my husband and I had just gotten into bed. Another long day down, now it was time to sleep then repeat in the a.m. We are not cuddlers; in fact, both of us prefer to sleep without being touched at all. But on this particular night my husband was in a bit of a spooning mood so I humored him.

Picture this: I’m laying on my side, my back to his front. He snakes his right arm around me and wants to hold on to something if you catch my drift.

But there was nothing there.

Why?

Because they had receded to the recesses of the armpits. The left one at least. His hand was resting on the bones and skin of my chest. So I did what any woman who wants to humor her husband would do.

I guided his hand up, up, up and over to my underarm. Then I patted his hand and said, “there she is.”

It was a laugh out loud moment, and you know what I say: Always end your day with laughter.

Olive Oyl Momma

P.S. Do you have a funny boob moment you’d like to share? Please do and we can all laugh together!