I got the information the other day for the Bunk Uterus Doctor, heretofore known as BUD. I open it up and it pretty much goes like this:
blah blah blah THIRTY-FIVE. blah blah blah AFTER THIRTY-FIVE THINGS ARE DIRE. blah blah blah IF YOU ARE THIRTY-TWO that is great! But THIRTY-FIVE is bad. blah blah blah COST WILL CHANGE WHEN YOU ARE THIRTY-FIVE, etc. etc.
Well, BUD, if I wasn’t shitting my pants about not being pregnant yet, your little packet of direness did the trick. I especially like how it is artfully decorated with close up pictures of baby toes and and smiling pregnant people, although the text and the photos don’t seem to line up. I think something more along the lines of a lady being chased by a giant THIRTY-FIVE would work.
Ever wonder where the phrase “biological clock” started? I have a pretty good idea that it was a thirty-four year old woman with three failed IUI’s.