The lady isn't feeling well today, or for that matter, yesterday.
Hunkered down in a vast empty bed with Oprah, Dr.Phil and any other innane 'feel good drama's that comes to mind.
The lady isn't feeling well, with past reflections of cramps, birth pains and menopause as she gets lost in a cloud of pillows, dressed in a fluffy feel-good robe that her mother bought her for her last birthday.
The lady isn't feeling well as she calls out for juices, Benadryl, Nyquil, popcicles, and jello; the suger free kind, if you please, framed by a rosy cheeked little girl face that peeks from behind the multilpe blankets ; (she's worried about the sexy portruding tummy and hips that turn me on not off.)
The lady isn't feeling well as I scurry through the kitchen trying to find the next treat with some kind of nourishing magic elixer.
The lady isn't feeling well, as I enter her inner sanctum with another offering that says,'I guess this means sex is out of the question!'