The humor is just LOST on me

Focus on the index finger on your dominant hand for a moment and imagine that it is unable to click the select button on your mouse. Your finger is there and you know that it's supposed to be able to click that foolish little button but no matter what you do it doesn't. You go to the doctor and put your finger through extensive poking, prodding and medication and you get it to click that button ONCE. Just once.

You LOVED the website that resulted in that one click and you were sure that you'd be happy enough for the rest of your life having visited that one site that one time. So you dragged yourself to a sort of pseudoacceptance that you'd live the rest of your life without your finger clicking on any other websites, ever.

Now imagine several years later and your finger twitches a little bit. It moves, say, from side to side but not up and down.

Suddenly you have hope. You think that maybe the prognosis for your finger isn't quite what they told you it was. You've exercised it, been feeding it the right foods for a little while and it's been brought to life a little bit.

Immediately your brain starts to dream of the websites you might be able to get to now that your finger is flinching. Yet, the flinching doesn't necessarily mean anything concrete right? It doesn't mean you really can move it up and down, clicking away on different addresses?

Hope in it's most destructive state.

My uterus is your index finger. It has flinched. My mind has been racing with irrational thoughts: If I keep losing weight, will that fix it? If I keep exercising, with that fix it? If I keep eating the right foods, taking the right supplements, saying the right prayers, keep going to church, will ANY of that fix it?

My uterus flinched and that doesn't mean jack shit.