I sprained my wrist. For days I had no idea how and I swear the memory loss was from sleep deprivation and not vodka (this time).

I assumed it was from lugging around a 35 pound toddler and a 20 pound 4 month old. (My pediatrician says they “don’t call it fat at this age.”)

But this morning I discovered the sad truth: I sprained my wrist trying to get into my fucking jeans. And now I think I broke a rib too.

FML (that’s text language for “Fuck My Life,” not “Fat Mother Load” like I assumed the first time someone sent it to me. Though both seem to apply in this scenario.)

If you like this post, check out 21 Things Your Pre-Pregnancy Jeans Would Say If They Could Breathe, and of course, DON’T FORGET TO VOTE for The Spew by clicking the “I’m Fab” image in the sidebar.

About Diana Davis

I’m a writer with a blog that will send my kids to therapy one day. Until then I invite you to laugh with me at their expense. Don't worry they love it. They're smiling already—or maybe that’s just gas.
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6 Responses to Ouch. 

  1. Ann Dixon says:

    OMG, Diana! This one had me laughing out loud and struggling for bladder control! You are fantastic.


    Liked by 1 person

  2. lapski says:

    good one !!!!!!!! been there done that !!!!!! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The Rambler says:

    Instant love. Hahahahahaha. Found your lets be friends plea on Top Mommy Blogs! Does it count if I broke my spirit when I try to put on my jeans?


  4. Pingback: dick holes | The Spew

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