Thanks for listening to me whine. I'm done crying about it. It's over. Fini. Caputo. The end of something that never really was, nor shall ever begin. That's the story of my life, but hey. God writes the jokes, I just suffer the punchlines. Thank you, I'll be here all week.

I worked out super hard all week, exercise is my salvation. It does what therapy never could - provide a resolution. I see results. I had a really brutal workout last nite. My trainer (literally) busted my ass and then we had our regular substitute spin drill sargeant, Joseph, ride us into oblivion. Yoga was the cherry on top. A very strenuous practice. During spin, Joseph played the Mary J. Blige song, "No More Drama" and it always invigorates me but it also sends a strong message - NO MORE DRAMA, no more pain. I needed to hear that.

I'm Post-MSing this week and I think it may have finally cleared because I woke up for the first time in over a week with 1) a clear head and 2) an appetite. Perhaps the storm has passed.... for now.

Besides the more I think about things, and I know I've said this before but bear with me, kind, gentle readers, there are far worse situations/states I could be in. I could live in Montana for one. Just kidding! Seriously, I could be in bad shape. OK, a much rounder shape. But I'm working on it. I've made progress, life is progress all I can do is keep moving forward.

Here I am crying about how miserable my life is, oh god I have no breasts. Boo hoo hoo. BFD. There are people in this world with no limbs, missing organs, damaged and I'm worried about such superficial BS? It's just horrible and pathetic. And so what I may end up alone, single, a spinster of the parish? Worse fates have been bestowed upon others far less deserving. I may never have a lover, but I do have love in my life. My friends who put up with me and my sh*t, my family who does too, random strangers on message boards who wish me well and colleagues and classmates who encourage me to continue working on my projects. Hey, I'm graduating this May! I could be poor and homeless, I could be disease ridden, I could be truly without a support system, even if it's not always the one I want or the way I'd prefer it to be.

Leanna, no I'm not 19 or 22 (although my bust size might deceive one into thinking I was 12....... and a boy.) I'm emotionally stagnant, so I just LOOK and think about ten years younger than what I actually am. And to answer your question, if my boy came on to me and wanted sex, would I do it? Of course I would. The only times I've ever had sex was when someone else wanted it. Would it be pleasurable or fulfilling? Absolutely not, but someone wanted me - even for a moment.

It's supposed to storm out tomorrow, but I'm planning on wearing my cute little top. Pneumonia be damned! He's not going to get the best of me