Now, PMS is easy to live with. All it takes to deal with is exercise, chocolate, and fat clothes.
But what’s hard to live with is hearing this on a routine visit to the gynec:
“4 years of marriage, 29 years old, time’s running out. I think you’ve had too much planning.”
Babies, babies, babies. Is that what everyone thinks of?
I don’t believe in best friends. Sorry Deepti (the NY one). Here’s a “Sorry I missed your birthday” post for you. If Deepthi (the Mumbai one) hadn’t forcibly become my best friend, I wouldn’t be in this mess now, would I? 
Regular readers know that I just can’t get by without a token Valentine’s Day post of some sort. Y’all also know I think of any holiday that doesn’t involve some sort of demon getting killed as sort of pointless. So I might as well go out and say it. Pah! Useless holiday.
At the same time it’s hard let the day go by because it’s my best friend’s birthday today. Well, I don’t believe in best friends, technically. But this girl just held me to ransom one day with the statement, “But you’re my besht friend. I’m not yours? Boo! Hoo! Hoo!”
Anyhooo. Happy Birthday Deeps. Here’s a post that’s all for you second year in a row 
