Look at that. She only went and damn well did it again. I think. Maybe. (Oh, come on now, certainty is for suckers). On day 23 this time. Something of an improvement on day 85. I shall buy her a corsage.
So that’s it. When I ovulate, I am damn’ near incapacitated by dizzy spells, nausea, and migraines. For four days.
This is the 2ww again. 2ww. Oh, the cuteness, it’s nearly as bad as baby-dust. And nothing is as bad as baby-dust except the phrase ‘baby-dancing’, which, oh, jeez, ewwww. Considering what you know of my double knock-out man-attracting technique of snarling ‘yes, tonight, I’ve got a bloody headache, so get over here or I’ll bite you, and stop whimpering,’ could anything be less bone-jarringly inappropriate than ‘baby-dancing’? Definitely more of a drunken morris dance in a pub car-park with sticks. Oh yes.
I’ve been drinking gin. Can you tell?
One gin. I have my standards.
Mostly this is me drunk on bewildered triumph. I did it! I ovulated! I am woman, hear me, umm, hear me whinge!
Being me, I am on a 1.5ww. Tuesday the 4th of March, we await the final confirmation of yesterday’s activity, if it was activity, because, really, me shake the haunting doubt it’s all a great con and there is no and never will be an ovulation? Ah hah hah hah.