So last night I was talking to my parents, and they told me they had just gone to see “The King’s Speech”, and really liked it.

My mom said she highly recommended it, but then, being the good mom she is and wanting to set a good example she said, “Well, there is a little bit of swearing. But it’s really funny and it does fit in with the storyline. So do you mind a little bit of bad language?”

And lo, there was a giant tear in the space-time continuum, as the entire Universe snorted and then dissolved into uncontrollable fits of giggling.

And then I might have said something like, “Have you met me? Are you new?”

Because:

-I have an entire category on this blog dedicated to tagging posts in which I proclaim my love for (or dedicate my ability in) swearing (which, now that I look at it, clearly needs to be updated)

-I have proclaimed far and wide the fact that my favorite word in the entire English language is the word “ass”, and,

-My mom herself has specifically called me to specifically tell me a specific story because, as she said, “I am the “ass” person in the family.”

-And (in one of my favorite examples of all), when I had my first appointment with my fibro doctor I had to fill out approximately 87 billion new patient forms. So when I came to the question, “What other things have you tried?”, while I was faithfully producing my list-for the 87 billionth time-I decided to stick in a little something new. Because I was so frustrated and so bored of having to answer the same damn questions over and over and over and OVER again.

So partly to entertain myself, and partly as a little test to get a sense of my potential  new doctor, in the middle of things like “chiropractic”, “massage”, and “physical therapy” I snuck in “swearing”. Because it’s true-swearing is one of my major coping tools. Plus, I wanted to see what his reaction would be (or if he would even notice it), because that would help me get a sense of whether or not I thought we could work well together.

As it turned out, he did  NOT comment on my answer. And that was probably a good thing, because I appreciated how seriously he took the fact that I was seriously ill and obviously suffering. (Although as I started to feel better, I did then begin a personal quest to make him laugh, or at the very least, smile at one of my jokes. And it took about a year. BUT I EVENTUALLY PREVAILED. ALL HAIL THE POWER OF MY RELENTLESS HUMOR.)

And then, just today, I went in to see the chiropractor to get my hip adjusted, because apparently I had angered it, and its punishment was to prevent me from being able to walk. (F*&%#$). And when he asked me how I was doing, I thought for a moment and then said, “Um, what’s worse than sh*tty?” (He didn’t know. If you do, please leave me a note in the comments.)

[Now, in my defense, I am coming off of a week where, on a scale of 0-10, my pain hovered between 15 and 17 for like 4 or 5 days. Which is just insane, and completely unfair that any human being should ever have to be in that much agony. So I’m aware that I might be bursting a lot of bubbles here for anyone who might have some kind of 19 th-century, romantic picture of the noble, long-suffering consumptive invalid, who patiently bears her burden with a cheerful disposition and and song in her heart.  But I’m just gonna tell you the truth here: There is a LOT of swearing when chronic pain is around. It is not pretty.]

OK, I’m sorry to say that I have lost the entire thread of this post, assuming there was even one to begin with. (Because when chronic pain is around there is also QUITE a bit of pain medicine involved.) So I’ll just end by saying this; just in case you ever wondered, CRANKY FIBRO GIRL THINK SWEARING GUD!