dear ovaries,

DEAR GOD YOU ARE LOATHESOME.
all i want to do is eat massive amounts of cookie dough/cry/sleep for a week.
partly because he isn't calling and i'm broke,
but mostly because you hate me.

stop making me swell like a fucking balloon,
-c

ps- b, i'm totally living vicariously through you right now... can we say, jealous? argh.