This post is from a suggested group
So, picture this: I'm lying in bed, surrounded by a fortress of pillows, thanks to those pesky fibroids and a slew of other body betrayals.
All my hobbies? Gone. Zip. Nada. Even my dog is giving me side-eye like, "Come on, human, get it together!" And don't even get me started on my mental health—it took a nosedive faster than you can say "Netflix marathon."
But then, amidst the sea of self-pity and cheese balls, a glimmer of hope emerged.
Well meaning people kept saying, "You'll bounce back, you'll be your old self again!" And I thought, "Great, but who was my old self anyway?" I mean, was she the one who danced like a maniac when Erasure came o or the one who couldn't resist a good pun?
So, here I am, post surgery, feeling like a superhero in waiting. They say post-op I'll feel like superwoman. But hold up, what does superwoman even do?
Probably not binge-watching who done its while eating crisps .
And thus, Meno-Mirth Michaela was born—a journal, a blog, a lifeline to keep me sane and improve me as a person. Because let's face it, if I can't find the humour in this chaos, I might as well start training dog to fetch my slippers. So, buckle up and join me on this rollercoaster ride. Who knows, maybe you'll find some of it humorous too. And if not, no hard feelings—just keep scrolling, my friend.
