Item – Went back to work. Work was quite peaceful, and, most importantly, had no moths in it.
Item – Went back on the diet wagon. I’ve been bobbing about the cut-off BMI for IVF on the NHS since Christmas. Enough. Gah. Tuna salad, bring it on.
Item – Not that I’m doing IVF. But I’ve always seen the NHS BMI guideline as being The Weight At Which My Weight Is Probably Not Killing My Babies, or they wouldn’t bother setting a BMI cut-off there in the first place, and I think I’d cheer up if I could tuck myself under it by a few pounds.
Item – Oh, and I have a wedding to go to in a couple of weeks and my mother is going on and on and on about me buying a suit and if I am going to spend that much on clothes, I’d rather not feel depressed every time I read the label inside them.
Item – H has to buy a new suit, because moths ate his best trousers. Pierre Cardin, they were. Oh, my, but I have fucking had it with moths.
Item – Rise in estrogen levels = tenfold expansion of endometrium = swelling in wall of uterus where endometrium should not be but yet, in my case, is = a week of lavish cramps leading up to ovulation. Fuck you, Cute Ute.
Item – Satsuma also making a fuss, so much so that I actually wondered if I was ovulating already, ie day 14, which is mental and unheard-of. Also tiresome as H and I haven’t had nearly enough sex yet.
Item – No indeed, the cramps thing doesn’t help with that.
Item – Suffering terribly from longing for a baby at the moment. Obviously, I long to have a baby 24/7, every month of the year, every year of this decade so far, but it’s currently extra-stingy and intense. Damn it all.