What does 6 weeks of nausea and 6 minutes of trying to convince a doctor that you’re not pregnant get you? That’s right, gall bladder surgery! After 6 weeks of constant nausea, the kind that wakes you up at 4 AM, and acquiring the ability to blech like a 14 year old boy, I have finally gotten the diagnosis of “bad gall bladder.”

Which really sucks because my dad had the same surgery when he was about 47, he later got heart disease and diabetes. The fact that I might be going down the same road scared me to the point that I’m getting a personal trainer. *YIKES*. I like all of my limbs and I don’t want them to be amputated because I was too much of a dumbass to eat right and exercise.

Other than that.

Jump back.