My Achilles heel is in my face
I could ramble on for ages about my trip to Atlanta last week, about attending the Pet Expo this weekend, about all the freakin' snow, about how envious I am of my parents in Florida and my sister in Hawaii, about how sad I am that we couldn't go to a surprise party yesterday because of the snow (and how really sad I am for the would-be hostess who planned such a great party, as well as for the guest of honor), about the stupid people who drive around with a foot of snow on top of their cars, about my intensifying love affair with Ms.PacMan and Flavor of Love, about the perfect grilled cheese I made yesterday, about how much I hate that my new car's hood requires a whole lot of effort to stay propped open, about how conflicted I feel about my oldest sister, about all the recent celebrity break-ups, about Madonna's get-up on Ellen after the Grammys, about the end (or, I hope, "end") of Arreseted Development, about stupid Britney with her baby on her lap in the car.
But I won't.
I will, instead, simply say that, for almost my entire life, any sort of stress I've experienced has manifested itself in a vicious attack on my tummy. Always, always, from the time I was a stressed-out third-grader, my mom pointed out that my gut is my Achilles Heel.
And then, weirdly, about this time last year, as I was considering moving into a new position at work and then actually beginning my transition to the new work, I developed this horrendous growth on my face that basically boils (heh) down to a giant cyst on my chin. I mean HUGE -- like, borderline Elephant Man. It did a number on my stomach, as well, but this chin thing was a new addition, and I wrote it off as an anomaly.
And today, I noticed, it's back, with a vengeance -- giant, disfiguring and painful to boot. I mentioned it (well, really, wailed and whined about it) to Minnams, who didn't notice it without my pointing it out. But once she saw it, she couldn't stop staring at it quizzically.
My head is officially a train wreck.
You're really wishing I'd just stuck to bitching about the snow, aren't you? Just be glad that, unlike Minnams and my valentine, you'll mostly likely not be subjected to it up close.
But I won't.
I will, instead, simply say that, for almost my entire life, any sort of stress I've experienced has manifested itself in a vicious attack on my tummy. Always, always, from the time I was a stressed-out third-grader, my mom pointed out that my gut is my Achilles Heel.
And then, weirdly, about this time last year, as I was considering moving into a new position at work and then actually beginning my transition to the new work, I developed this horrendous growth on my face that basically boils (heh) down to a giant cyst on my chin. I mean HUGE -- like, borderline Elephant Man. It did a number on my stomach, as well, but this chin thing was a new addition, and I wrote it off as an anomaly.
And today, I noticed, it's back, with a vengeance -- giant, disfiguring and painful to boot. I mentioned it (well, really, wailed and whined about it) to Minnams, who didn't notice it without my pointing it out. But once she saw it, she couldn't stop staring at it quizzically.
My head is officially a train wreck.
You're really wishing I'd just stuck to bitching about the snow, aren't you? Just be glad that, unlike Minnams and my valentine, you'll mostly likely not be subjected to it up close.
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