Are you even Brotherhood Queen anymore? they grumble.
Haven't there been 9 other Brotherhood Queens since your metaphorical crown was bestowed upon you? they murmur.
Well Bellyachers, here is your restitution. If all goes according to plan, I shall shelve my insistence at being referred to as Q-Jay. My swelling humility is due to none other than
What the heck is Brotherhood Queen anyway? they challenge.
Pardon me, but what is that? SO glad you asked. The Meanest Mom, a witty woman of words, decided to host the first annual e-pageant to determine which chronic disease is sexiest of all. In her words,
[A] committee comprised of chronically ill women in various stages of physical and emotional decay will select the finalists. Then there will be voting, tears of joy, a plastic crown, and bragging rights FOREVER.I pondered this challenge for an extended 4 second interval before realizing: I want that plastic crown. In a bad, bad way.
And wouldn't you know, I was selected as one of the seven finalists due to an "ability to laugh at [my]self and find humor in the unfortunate."
There were a couple edits made and I sure don't recall using all of those superfluous exclamation marks, but you get the point. At the end of the week, be sure to vote for Ms. PCOS as Ms. Chronic Disease of America. Encourage your friends to vote. Post on your own blog about how sexy PCOS can be. You'll be glad you did.