I think I just enjoy POAS (aka "peeing on a stick") and every time I do it I feel like the stick mocks me all day until I empty the trash or threaten to throw it out into the street and run over it with my car. So this morning I got out one of the good ones, not the dollar store cheapy ones but a good name brand and has an embarassing commercial type of pregnancy tests, popped a squat and waited the three minutes for your results. Guess what?! NOT PREGNANT! So apparently I'm just late again and now instead of playing the waiting game with my ovulating, trying, testing, retesting, and what not, I'm packing tampons/pads/liners/etc. into my purse and waiting for the inevitable red sea to wash it's high tide throughout my system so that I can resume all this madness for what is the next attempt to have baby numero two.
And sadly there was a time where were always like, "Whew. Got my period!" like the first time after your first time. HA! You could've used a condom, the pill, a diaphram, spermicidal foam, and dated a guy with a vasectomy and still thought you were pregnant after your first time. So many health class horror stories and LMN movies have that plot line and eventhough you are the most intune person with you health and human sexuality you still get that little incling in your mind. Then there were times where you were like, "SHIT! Got my period!" Like on date night when you were still in that non-personal phase where nobody burps or is gassy or has any type of bodily fluids or waste. Neither of you want to admit you take the newspaper or magazines to the potty with you. Heaven forbid you get the flu and have to cancel dinner and a movie because you have your ass on the toilet and your head in the shower trying to catch all things spewing from your orfaces. You think tonight might be the night, you've been leading up to it and then you get the period. Or when you want to go swimming and you run out of tampons but have to leave ASAP and have to make them stop and get teased the whole way to the pool, mercilously by your friends who have a secret code name or nickname for you all day until someone else does something to top it like splits their pants or farts or something. You're in the honeymoon phase of the relationship where you suddenly both have more money becuase you can't stop humping each other to actually make it to a date. Your skin is glowy, you're dropping weight like an anorexic from "living off love", and you can't imagine going a few days without some type of Big O inducing passion.. Nah.. Scratch that... you wait all week long and you put the baby to bed early and actually shave your legs and reapply deoderant to come to bed in something other than your spit up stained pj's and get it early. Yeah, that's more like it now a days. And remember the days when you thought it was too much to squeeze all your "girly" products into your cute little purse? Now you carry butt paste, diapers, enough wipes to clean your car, atleast two sets of clothes, extra snacks and toys, petrified pretzels or fruit snacks, and about 8 rubber bands to pull up your hair that you need to cut but can't find the time or the style and really only fix it about 2 outta 7 days a week aside from washing and air drying and then knotting it atop your head. Or what's worse, having someone find out you have girly products in there. Like you ask your husband to dig for your car keys and instead he pulls out the keys with a tampon stuck through the ring. Or your change purse has a pad hanging from it because in all the rummaging the tab busted open a fraction so the sticky stuff could latch on. True story: I went to the movies, was using an Instead that needed rinsing out and this lady opens up the stall that I was using just as I was putting it back in. Two fingers deep in vagina. She said, "Oh" and went into the next stall. I flushed, washed, ran back to my seat at the movies and she walked in and sat two rows in front of me. UGH! We left before the lights came on. How do you recover from that? Atleast let a person explain and then realize they need not explain becuase you always check for feet before flinging open a stall that looks occupado! And now I sit here, hoping to feel a twinge, a cramp, a slight dribble. And I find myself sitting here instead, playing the waiting game.. and waiting game... hoping it doesn't turn into the crying game.. and secretly wishing next month I'd have a whole blog dedicated to morning sickness. |
