Item – Oh, go on, tell H what you want to hear from him. Or email, if you’re shy (email address is hidden at the bottom of my About page). It’ll be fun. And he’s a BOY, and in infertility land, boys are RARE and FASCINATING. And we all want to see RARE and FASCINATING, don’t we? Yes we do.
Item – Why are you still here? Go and pester H. The rest of this post is really boring.
Item – I had a stomach bug yesterday. Spent morning quietly reading knitting magazines on the loo. Spent afternoon in bed thinking ‘I’m hungry. My stomach really hurts. I’m hungry. My stomach really hurts. Damn, I’m hungry, ‘ on a loop. And then wondering what on earth was going tits-up at work in my absence.
Item – Aaand today I found out. I got exactly 23 minutes to eat lunch in. And no tea breaks. Just as well I didn’t bloody want to eat anything, then. Came home late, tired and cross, and H is out at the pub celebrating a colleague’s… something. Promotion? Birthday? Firing? Canonisation? So I slumped in front of the telly, eating cheese [note to self - was this wise?], and Pondering Life. This is always a mistake, as it leads inevitably to the conclusion that mine is quite tedious and unsatisfactory, cute husband and natural ringlets notwithstanding.
Item – As for the 2010 Forced March Shrinkathon, well, I put 3lbs on on holiday (oops), and I have failed to lose a single ounce of it. On the plus side, I haven’t gained another ounce either, despite the cheese-eating (this is a plus, yes? I’m not just pandering to my own lazy arse, am I?). Still, you’d've thought a 24-hour bog marathon would’ve shifted the odd microgram. Bah. Back to the lettuce.
Item – It’s day 30 of this cycle. No ovulation yet. Stupid ovary. What’s the point of having the AMH levels of a woman in her damn twenties if my sodding ovary won’t sodding ovulate anyway?
Item – Must think of something positive. Must think of something positive. Must think of something positive. Arse.