Yay lady times.
Laying on my couch with my heating pad, Harley Cat, nausea, headache, and Farscape.
Looking at the plus side — being at home with cramps is better than dealing with work bitches with cramps.
Later this evening when not in excruciating pain and cuddling with my heat pad, I did paint my toe nails. Just something to feel pretty. Also knicked my toes when shaving my legs. Damn societal beauty standards not being accepting of my hobbit feet my dad so kindly gave me in the genetic lottery.
After 72 hours of the “silent treatment” I broke down and asked S.O. how his day was. Now we’re having this awkward pissing match conversation about pet training because I said the dog was undisciplined and gross.
I want to just come out and ask what his fucking problem is, but doing it over FB Messenger seems tacky and inappropriate.
Note: he did not ask how my day was or how I was feeling. Only asked about puppy sitting. OR apologize for flaking on my IUD appointment, of which he agreed to pay my copay.
And I’m sorry if that sounds weird or greedy, but if you are a lady and in a relationship where the man doesn’t at least help with fronting the costs of contraception, ya’ll need to have a come to Jesus meeting. It takes two to tango.
Bah… dunno what to do.
Relationships are weird.