Surely ok is good enough isn't it? I mean, I have had a bit of a rough life. Twins is a big call and remember how much attention you got when I was stretched so far you couldn't see your toes? Full of baby, full of life. You patted me, tenderly rubbed stretch cream into me and dreamt of the maternal bliss growing inside. Yet, as soon as those whinging critters popped out (yeah, ok, I know it wasn't that easy for you but this story isn't about you, its my turn), all of a sudden I am shoved on the junk heap.

I acknowledge you do try (occasionally) you sit me up every now and then and you took me along to pilates a couple of times last year. A good start but seriously either give me a break or give me attention.

It's fine for your brain, it gets everything it asks for. "Oh Darling Phoebe, it is that time of the month right now, give us a bit of choccie would you". Such sweet relief for the lucky brain, he gets all sucky uppey to you and is rewarded with another little piece. I just wonder where that leaves me. I have to bare the burden of all his little fetishes and what reward do I get in return?

Then I have to cope with your reluctance to go for a walk. The alarm clock goes off and I think, whoopee, finally a bit of love and affection, but nope, the wretched brain kicks in again, your legs whinge they are tired and your ticker, well it decides to make itself scarce and send you vibes that it needs to meditate and so listening to everyone but me you lie on your back and start with the affirmation carryon.

Well I'm here to tell you, my friend (I use that term reluctantly, you're on friendship thin ice!), I've had it, enough is enough. If you are going to continue to treat me with such disrespect, I am going to hang out over the top of your jeans. I am going to pop out when you are sitting on the couch trying to look sexy for your hubbie so he will mind the kids while you go on your girls retreat. You take me for granted. You expect me to be there for you, performing throughout your waking hours and sometimes into the night. Well I've had it, either you give me some affection or revenge moves to the gastro level. I loud pffft at lunch with a prospective client would be embarrassing wouldn't it!