is it hypochondria if your issues are real?

welcome to bitchfest. it’s what i do.

I’ve been having some… issues. It’s like every single day I wake up with a new affliction. A couple of weeks ago I got a sinus infection. In hopes of staving off impending death by sinus, the Hubbs bought me a Netipot and lifetime supply of those little packets of joy to flush and refurbish my sinus cavities. I won’t even enlighten you with the details of what was flushed from my “cavities” but let’s just say the netipot is the roto-rooter of all things sinus.

I have been singing the praises of the pot of neti for weeks. Not even Oprah and her favorite things could surpass my exuberance. I mean, hello??? Who wouldn’t want to look like this every morning?

Then last week I started having a popping and echoing sensation in my ear. The longer it went, the more my head basically became a cavern of abyssmal (is that even a word?) echo. I absolutely was convinced I was going deaf in my left ear. (I’m still not sure otherwise.) A friend mentioned the miracles of the, you guessed it, Netipot and told me to try a different exercise for the ears.

So I googled the Netipot Ear Procedure and do you know what I found? My fucking Netipot and my uninformed idiotic use of the damn thing is what CAUSED my ear tragedy. And now? I HATE YOU NETIPOT! Nowhere in the instructions does it list the calesthenics one is required to do to guarantee ear passages are not contaminated by the flushed fluids of the sinus blardy blar blah. ACK!

I’m STILL working on clearing my ears permenantly. DAMMIT.

But… all that just lead up to today. Today…. ohhhhh today. Today was the most special Mondays of all time. There were so many things that made today the most EPIC clusterfuck of a Monday. I won’t torture you (any more than I already have) with the details. I’ll just tell you this most precious little tidbit that happened.

I was sitting on the couch feeding my newest daycare baby. She is adorably small and infantile. I love her like brown butter on whole wheat angel hair pasta. (ohmygod that is so delicious!) She was tired, I was tired, all the other kids were napping and I was sitting oh so relaxed with one leg tucked up underneath me- like half of criss-cross-applesauce. So while she ate and fell asleep I also dozed for a minute or 10. Then, I woke and decided to take her to bed. I slowly stood up and then when I went to take a step and put the weight on the leg that was tucked under me, my DEAD leg just buckled and I basically just broke my whole damn leg! (Don’t worry about the baby. I performed WonderWoman-esque acrobatics and she never even woke up or batted an eyelash.)

Okay, so I really just sprained my ankle. BAD. (Remember that time a few weeks ago when I sprained my wrist by opening a door? This is the new version of that. SUPER!)

Should I be concerned? Do I have some sort of disease that makes me prone to idiotic freak occurances? I mean, besides hypochondria? Because that just means my issues aren’t really real, right? Because I don’t so much want to be a hypochondriac. Not this week, anyway.

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i’ve been declared governor! oh wait, that says governess. crap.

A friend of mine, bitchin’ rock start photographer Daniel Jay, begged to shoot me for a suuuper important assignment that will  free the world and Martians alike.  {at least that’s how Charlie Sheen would put it.  translation: A bitchin’ rock star photographer friend was looking for people to shoot for a project and I begged him to let me be one of the lucky ones.  whatever.  it’s practically the same thing.}   Anyway… if you want to see a shot of me “on the job” you should go here and check it out.  And you most definitely should poke around his blog for a bit because… I said so.  {And it rawks!}

{A little note here, my photo is positioned in between a bartender and a trophy maker.  These are my two dream jobs!  Weird twist of fate?  YES!}

So as I was mentally preparing myself for this,  my chance at being a world famous super model governess, I  slipped into a  crazy place.  One where I was interviewing myself about how it feels to be a daycare provider and what made me decide to do this and just all sorts of Sheenesque delusions of grandeur crazy town behavior.  And then I realized that this dude was coming to take my pic and NOT to interview me for an expose on glorified babysitters.  Damn.

Clearly, I need to come up with a profession that actually warrants interviews and me being in the spotlight.  While caring for children is one of the most important and gratifying {as well as challenging, of course} jobs in the world, it’s not one that will really put you on the cover of a magazine.

I’m off to brainstorm my plan of action.