My right ovary hurts. At least I think it's my right ovary. It would actually be on the doctor's left, but it's on my right. Do you know what it's like to be in ovarian pain? It's like there's a little man inside your abdomen (yes, of course it would be a man because he's causing me pain) and he's sticking a thumbtack into your ovary and pulling it back out again. And just when the pain starts to go away he lets out an evil little laugh and does it again. That's the only explanation I can find. It's either that, or my ovaries are pissed at me. And that's a very good possibility. And I understand their frustration.

They're like, "Look Ashly, we've been here for 24 1/2 years now. We sit around all day doing nothing. Then at the end of every month, we get our hopes up thinking maybe, just maybe, this is the month we'll actually get to do something productive. But nooooo. It's always NO. Well screw you Ashly. If you're not going to let us do our job, then we're going to make the last few days of every month a living hell for you."

Easy for my ovaries to say. They don't have to go to work every day and pay the bills like I do. They wouldn't have to stay up nights feeding the baby and changing dirty, stinky diapers like I would. They wouldn't have to say, "No dear, I never had sex when I was your age. I was as pure as a winter lilly until the day I married your father." So little ovaries, I say this: just calm down. Be patient. Your day in the sun will come. I promise. I think. I hope. We're kinda in the same boat here, so let's work together on this deal.

And wha-laa! No more ovary pain.