I'm cranky, so a vent is in order

“If you don’t have anything nice to say…” You know how the rest of that goes, hence the lack of posts this week. PMS is a distinct possibility (although I’m not 100% sure since I’ve been taking tamoxifen for two weeks now and had what I think was my first hot flash on Saturday) but I can definitely say I’m just annoyed at, well, everything right now. In hopes that getting it all out will make me feel just a wee bit better, here we go.

I saw my plastic surgeon yesterday and I can’t get my implants until August. This means I have to live with these rock-hard, oddly-shaped expander-boobs for at least two more months.
Living with my expander-boobs also means I’m unlikely to get a good night’s sleep for at least two months. I have to sleep on my back, and I wake up several times throughout the night with numb hands because I instinctively keep my elbows on the mattress and let my hands hang down. (It’s bizarre, I may need to bring the post-surgery wedge pillow back.)
After barely sleeping, I literally can’t get out of bed in the morning. The soreness and chest-crushing pressure I feel whenever I get up from lying down is insane. (The good news is it dissipates fairly quickly once I’m upright.)
I’m sick of wearing a sports bra ALL. THE. TIME. (Except when I’m in the shower.) I love my four Everlane Perform Bras because they are not racerback, which means I can step into it and pull it down to get out of it, but I’m totally over them.
I’m getting really tired of walking around my neighborhood for exercise. Why? Because I can’t really do anything else. As I watch any arm definition I may have once had fade into oblivion, I ordered a set of two-pound Bala Bangles this morning. I plan on wearing them on my wrists while I walk, and on my ankles every other minute of the day.
My surgeon says I’m still really swollen—I’m hoping this includes my ass and thighs—so I’m trying really hard to eat a mostly plant-based diet and avoiding salt at all costs. (That’s enough to make someone cranky.)
I can’t open a freaking child-resistant pill bottle, or even my baby oil for that matter. I can’t cut a watermelon or spaghetti squash. Jars? Not a chance. If I lived alone I’d be in big trouble.

I think that’s it for right now—and I actually do feel a little better. But I also have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll be updating this post throughout the day. (Feel free to chime in and share what’s irking you!)

Update #1: The weather is yucky today. (Just rain already!)
Update #2: I desperately need Botox. Looking at myself in the mirror isn’t helping my mood one bit.
Update #3: Now I feel guilty for complaining because I’m healthy—and that should be enough, right?