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Uterus  /ˈyo͞odərəs/

Mildly bitter, overworked and severely underappreciated.  Herself hasn’t given up on me yet, so I begrudgingly put up with the weird neighbors.

We live near the pelvic floor, a weakening structure that needs much repair.

I’m back after a long hiatus sans womb wifi.   The new look feels like a rebirth, and it made me so happy I shed tears of blood! (ok I’ll stop with the puns – maybe).

Funniest. Shit. Ever.

Also referred to as The Time The Internet Forgot I’m A Uterus. The comments? Pure gold. Treat yourself, you deserve the laughs.

Cracking foundations and leaky basements

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I’m a raging mess of hormones on a good day so after I evicted the 2nd squatter you can imagine just how I felt – never mind what it did to Herself.  A small bout of postpartum?  Absolutely.  Weird adult acne issues? Definitely.  Throw in a bit of hair loss and a body that doesn’t feel like your own, I can see where she may have had a bit of issues.

It’s no secret pregnancy and birth changes you forever – heck, look at me!  I’m rumpled, and dimpled, and scarred from 3 of those!  Look, I couldn’t be the only one who didn’t recognize themselves in the mirror.  I was jealous, ok?  I, too, was a raging mess of hormones and I may… have gone at bit extreme in my quest to avenge the Hormonal Uteri Contingency.

Now what horrible, no-good, very bad, terrible thing did I do?  Well… I gave her straight hair.  I thought I’d send her a few clumps of weird straight hair but it felt sooooooo good.  The only thing I remember is waking up feeling incredibly satisfied, relaxed, and peaceful – until i heard her shreek to high heavens and back.  It appears I didn’t stop after a few clumps.  The poor woman went to bed with curly hair and work up with stick straight hair.  Stick.  Straight.  Hair.  She spent her life with big, bold, beautiful curls the likes of Shirley Temple and everyone who had the best hair in the ’80’s.

They’ll come back, right?  the curls?  I hoped so.  I prayed.  She cried.  She screamed.  I felt awful.  Hormone-induced vengeance of non-existent issues are never a good idea.

Life is funny like that – the smallest little thing can have a huge impact.  Fast-forward through a third pregnancy, ailing parents, the loss of a few loved ones, the toll of life… and she just seems a little bit sad all of the time.

You can’t see it really: she’s laughing and smiling and rocking out her big personality like she always has.

But I can tell.  I can feel it.

When she looks at an older couple and she sees how beautiful they were in their youth, how beautiful they still are.  When tragedy strikes in the world and her twitter stream lights on fire.  When she looks in the mirror to do hair.

She picks up the brush, she sighs, and untangles a chevelure that doesn’t feel right in her hands.

Wife, Mother, Daughter, Caregiver, Entrepreneur…  But what about Woman?

The medication, the therapy… they help.  But still –  Where is the woman who used to look back at her in the mirror?

I overheard her talking on the phone – seems she booked an appointment at the spa.  I’m guessing she’s taking looks into her own hands and getting her curl back today.

And hopefully when she looks in the mirror tonight, she’ll be just a little less sad.

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