“Is it time for your period, or something?"
With unerring instinct, he'd found a great big red button, and pushed it. Wyatt fights to win, which means he fights dirty. I understand the concept because that's how I fight, too, but understanding it didn't stop me from reacting. I could practically feel my blood bubbling with steam. "What?"
He turned around, all controlled aggression, and damned if he didn't push the button again. "What is it about having a period that makes women so bitchy?"
... It was an effort, but I said as sweetly as possible, "It isn't that we're bitchier, it's that having a period makes us feel all tired and achy, so we have less tolerance for all the bullshit we normally SUFFER IN SILENCE." By the time the sentence ended the sweetness was long gone, my jaw was clenched, and I think my eyes were bugging out.
Wyatt took a step back, belatedly looking alarmed.”
— Linda Howard
“The whole right side of his face was smashed in, concave forehead and crushed cheekbone and one eye bugging precariously from a broken socket. He was purplish-black, and dirty white: Maggots seethed from every pore and crawled across him in excited wriggly piles, blowflies waving and blooming and wilting, the bits of bone they'd scraped clean glinting like tiny mosaic tiles. Scraps of jeans and a leather jacket clung to the sticky seething mess of his flesh. He was big, big shouldered, a good foot taller; chit-chitter, he went, even standing still.”
— Joan Frances Turner
“What is it about having a period that makes women so bitchy?" I paused for a moment, struggling against the urge to leap on him and tear him limb from limb. For one thing, I love him. Even when he's being an asshole, I love him. For another, any attempt to leap and tear right now would hurt me way worse than I could possibly hurt him. It was an effort, but I said as sweetly as possible, "It isn't that we're bitchier, it's that having a period makes us feel all tired and achy, so we have less tolerance for all the bullshit we normally SUFFER IN SILENCE." By the time the sentence ended the sweetness was long gone, my jaw was clenched, and I think my eyes were bugging out.”
— Linda Howard
“Rick told me, a little later, I should be living in community. He said I should have people around bugging me and getting under my skin because without people I could not grow
I could not grow in God, and I could not grow as a human. We are born into families, he said, and we are needy at first as children because God wants us together, living among one another, not hiding ourselves under logs like fungus. You are not a fungus, he told me, you are a human, and you need other people in your life in order to be healthy.”
— Donald Miller
“No, it's not healed. It happened in Sochi and it's been going on and off all season. It's been bugging me throughout my entire Grand Prix season. Coming here, my foot was bothering me. I knew when to push my foot and when not to. I know that it was all in my head. I knew if I didn't think about it too much, it wouldn't bother me too much. But it's been getting better. Still not fully healed but it's getting much better than it has been.”
— Gabrielle Daleman
“I actually had to get two fillings. Yeah, I swear. My teeth had been bugging me because I had been eating so much junk food on the road. I was the worst on teh team because I always had a bag of candy with me. I never had any cavities before, but yesterday, I took two for the team.”
— Tisha Venturini
“All medicine comes down to this: Find out what's bugging you; get rid of it. Find out what you need; get it. The body does the rest.”
— Mark Hyman, M.D.
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