Armistice

Dearest Uterus,
I don't know why I always try to give you a run for your money. Time and time again, you've shown me who is boss. Each time, I lose miserably. Clearly, your name is HOV. Today, my back, stomach, and the rest of my body are done. We're wrapped in a white flag and waiting. We're pleading with you. Make it swift and painless, if possible.
If you, queen B decide to just do it like Nike, and make a run for it, I won't even try to stop you. No objections or questions asked. I know you've got to handle your business.
As I lay here, I hope that the stars will align in my favor and that the Gods will be merciful. I await your response.

XoXo,
Estella and the rest of her body.

Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®