Special Guest Blogger: St. Margaret of Antioch

My father was a Pagan Priest and my mother died not long after giving birth to me so i was sent away to be raised by my nurse who was a devoutly Christian woman who raised me to consecrate my virginity to God because God does love a virgin and i had a happy childhood living in the country keeping sheep with my foster mother until just after my 15th Birthday when Olybrius, the chubby Governor of the Roman Diocese of the East, stopped by our village and i caught his eye and he asked me to marry him and i thought that's not too bad, living in a Palace with servants and everything but he demanded that i renounce my Christianity first.
When i said 'Whoa there chubster, no way am i doing that' he had me arrested, tortured and then thrown into the dungeon and then things took a bizarre turn for the worse when Satan appeared before me in my cell and for some reason he took the form of a massive dragon and the Satan/Dragon thing swallowed me whole.
What happened next was that the cross that i was wearing irritated the stomach of the Satan beast, obviously him being Beelzebub and all, and he began scratching furiously at his stomach and i scratched from the inside and between us i managed to cut myself out.
The next day, the Romans tried to execute me by drowning me and when that never worked they tried lighting me on fire, which would have seemed a bit like overkill if it had actually worked but it turns out that bathing in the blood of devil dragons makes you immune to most ordinary causes of death, because neither the drowning nor the flames harmed me.
Not deterred by my unique levels of unkillability, the Romans eventually resorted to chopping my head off which was much more effective and so began my career of the Patron Saint of expectant mothers but i did put in an appearance a little later as one of the voices who spoke to Joan of Arc although as she ended up crispy fried, maybe what i should have said was don't give up the day job love.