Item: Will you just look at the congratulation festival going on in the last thread! I feel thoroughly red-carpeted. Thank you all so much. And I confess to curling up into a pretzel of happy embarrassment and crying when I saw all the comments. Because I wear my big girl panties every day now.
Item: And, huh, I really touched a few nerves with the Marital Harmony HaHaHa posts, didn’t I? (wait, you mean people read this? Dear God, perhaps I should shut up).
Item: H and I left work on Friday evening and hurled ourselves into the maelstrom of British Public Transport, and were eventually spat out at my mother’s house. We had been enveigled hence by the promise (possibly threat) of a multitude of aunts, all waiting to inspect me for the first time in months and months and months. Oh, and H, too. Who decided he couldn’t possibly let me go alone in case I came back in a psychotic fugue. So we went. And miraculously were spared any excessive auntage as they were too busy digging little holes in each-other’s psyches for once. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
Item: People who have now Commented Officially on my weight loss: my grand-mother-in-law (who sounded vaguely disapproving) and my mother. Whereapon she, along with Alpha Aunt, spent a good chunk of this morning haranguing me with further weight-loss tips, suggestions, orders and demands, until I collected my slightly shattered nerve and said, brightly, that I must be doing exactly the right thing already, on account of being, you know, thinner.
Item: About that ‘thinner’ thing. None of my trousers fit properly any more. And I need new bras. Curses. Of all the parts of my body that could do with a deflating, the upper chest was not one of them. I like my upper chest seriously well-upholstered. It distracts people from the acreage elsewhere about my person.
Item: Speaking of thinning, I looked in the mirror the other night and the bellow of fright and rage I let out made H jump six feet two rooms away. PCOS’s latest trick is to take a semi-circular chunk out my hair-line and decorate the gap with a very few half-inch wisps of baby-hair sticking out in random directions. On my left temple. Not, I could almost say alas, also on my right temple. We cannot be having anything as dignified as symmetry chez May. So it looks balding and even more ridiculous than that, even. Fabulous.
Item: Came home again today, declining some quite serious emotional blackmail about the whole ‘but we haven’t seen you for months‘ issue (in which case, they could have got up at 8:30, like I did, instead of lying in until midday, blasted aunts), to meet my friend-who-knows-who-she-is for tea, and very importantly meet her infant son for the first time as well. Last time I saw him, he was a large bump in the front of his mother’s person. Bless, but he’s a charming little chap, and benevolently agreed to sit on my lap for a while and chew my hair (clean hair, I promise). It’s nice, holding babies. I like it. Especially sensible ones like this one, who didn’t once fling himself suddenly backwards onto the floor – Diva used to do that on an hourly basis and it used to scare the living crap out of me.
Item: It is now three weeks since the HSG and every few days I call Miss Consultant’s secretary, and the secretary promises to bring the matter to Miss Consultant’s attention, and I wait for Miss Consultant to call me back and say ‘yes, go ahead, Clomid 4’ or ‘no no no stop right where you are, your fallopian tube is as much use as spaghetti’ or any given point in between, and after a few days of waiting I call the secretary again, rinse, repeat. I am now officially Fucked Off about this.
Item: We are now on day 38 of this cycle. Satsuma has stretched a few times, feinted towards ovulation twice, and now appears to be comatose again. I am starting to eye the provera packet with wild-eyed longing.