My friend is sensible that way.
So, convinced that I was going to be handed a death sentence, I headed off to the medical center this morning, weeping a little inside at the thought of my 2 youngest having to grow up without me. Poor motherless creatures! And let's not even talk about how haunted I felt by the thought of all the family photos I haven't sorted through yet. The guilt was overwhelming.
|My poor girls, after my demise. I hope they can sing.|
As it turns out, however, I'm not dying. Yet. The doctor said it just feels that way because I probably have shingles. In my defense, the rash hasn't shown up yet, so it was hard to recognize.
I just looked up pictures of a shingles rash. That was gross. Don't do it. Save yourselves.
|Torture device, by Wacoal|
You know, I have heard people talk about shingles and how painful it is, but I never really believed them. Of course, it doesn't help that this outbreak is focused precisely where my bra makes contact with my body, thus magnifying the pain, oh, about a hundredfold. Why couldn't I get it around my waist, like other people? WHY? I would have had an excuse to lounge on the couch in comfy pajama pants for a few weeks, while eating Breyer's strawberry ice cream straight from the carton. Silver lining, right?
But no, my over-endowed self either has to go around bra-less (thereby traumatizing my teen boys no end) and risk getting my nipples caught in my pants zipper, or else I have to suck it up by fastening my bra and enduring the pain of a thousand knives under my breastbone. Nice choice, right?
What I should do is go out and try to find something comfier and looser to hold up the girls - but that would involve putting on the torture bra and visiting umpteen dozen stores to find something that fits. I just don't think I am physically capable of doing that right now. Particularly since I am under the influence, as it were, of some nice drugs whose effects might render driving a tad dangerous.
|She doesn't look like she's in pain.|
Of course, there's always Amazon...they have everything, right? What do you think, will these (in XXL) do the trick? And isn't it a wonderful century we live in, where I could conceivably have a drone deliver brassieres to my door? I mean, it's like the Jetsons, only weirder.
Do you think Jane Jetson ever got shingles?
[Orphan image: Live Theater in MA and RI]
[Bra image: Linda, the Bra Lady]
[Jane Jetson image: The Jetson Wiki]