Flexible

Dear Husband:

Here's the thing. I work really hard. And I work out like eight times a week. And now that I am (gasp) approaching the end of my 20's (think distant horizon, not this Tuesday), my body is starting to talk back to me instead of just letting me do whatever I want to do.

The other morning I woke up and I couldn't turn my head because my neck hurt so badly. Even though I have been working hours on end with people who sold their brains on Ebay whilst there are millions of dollars at stake, I personally think it's because I spend so much time wondering where the h*ll you are, husband. I don't mean to sound bitter, but I had to buy BenGay.

BenGay, husband. It's a wonder I didn't ask the pharmacist's assistant come home with me out of the sheer fear of mortality that it provoked.

And for your information, I am not a BenGay girl, husband. I don't break easily. I am flexible and supple. Elastic, really.

I am not trying to pressure you. I am just saying, look, husband, I would prefer that we meet each other while we still want to rub kamasutra oils all over our bodies as opposed to BenGay Maximum Strength on each other's necks.

xoxo
me