Stash and Churn

Right ok.

I've started and deleted about 9 versions of this blog because I'm trying to write something cheerful when actually I'm in a totally black mood. Not racially. I'm not sitting in my room being inappropriate in an afro wig, face paint and stereotyping. I just feel awful.

I was going to try and write something super happy to disguise it but every time I try and write something all I can think about is that I have stomach ache. Not just any stomach, and fuck off, no not an M&S stomach ache. I've got the sort of stomach ache that makes your face try and climb off so that it's not associated with the body of pain. 

It feels a little bit like someone is trying to inflate a bouncy castle inside me.

It feels a bit like a hedgehog is living above some very noisy tenants in my tummy and is jumping on the floor to get them to shut up resulting in a thumping pain and also spiky bits where he is prickling the walls and ceiling a bit.

It feels a bit like Michael Barrymore is chewing on my liver.

It feels a lot like things might fall out of me if I open my mouth.

It feels a bit like Sigourney Weaver has made me eat a quilt and I'm now digesting it.

It's entirely my fault for eating a Weight Watchers froze spaghetti bolognese. Why would anyone ever think that would be a good idea? Answers on the back of a postcard. It took precisely 7 minutes to cook and then about 15 to eat and now a lifetime of shame. It was like eating gritty meat, marinated in plaster and tomato ad poured over the conditioner soaked dreadlocks of an albino without access to sunlight.

I'm not a happy bunny. And now to make it even worse I've failed at being hilarious and upbeat and all I've done is whine that my tummy hurts. But it does feel a bit like Fantastic Mr Fox is digging through my tummy button. The only solution is to finish tidying my room and go back to staring vacantly at Arrested Development. Another solution could be to just nip to Tesco and buy some medicine but I don't want to behave like a wuss.