Pride is painful

Or rather, vanity fucking hurts.

It is now 17 days since my tummy tuck. Hmmm. I know the results take some time before you can see what a fabulous job your plastic surgeon has done, but really, at this point, I wish I'd never bothered.

I have this huge hole in my stomach that a reddish liquid pours out of if I alter my position. The hole is big enough for my finger to go in. No, I don't push my finger in on purpose, but sometimes it slips in accidentally. At least this hole is providing a natural drainage point so my stomach has stopped bursting, although it has managed to make another couple of natural drainage points for itself, it takes me ages to change all my dressings.

I had an infection which made me feel rather unwell with a fever. I have taken the fashion of 'layering' to new extremes by wearing any item of clothing that happens to be lying around topped off with my dressing gown - and then Jonathan's big thick fleece dressing gown, just in case. And Jonathan never twigged that it was actually me that was turning the thermostat up to 30 degrees. Well, I was so cold.

Got over the infection, down to an average number of clothes and only one thick dressing gown, but my get up and go has most definitely got up and gone. I have turned down 2 offers of social intercourse this week and only had alcohol on one day.

Now do you believe I've felt ill?