Crazy Pants

I don't know if they have thermostats in hell but if they do, someone needs to check it. Immediately. I'm sure it's below freezing because yes, I'm posting two nights in row. I seem to be having a dilemma. (Story of my life.) The best way I can explain it is like this. Remember when you were going on your first REAL date? (This is more from a girl's perspective, obvi. Unless I have now expanded my blogger-followers into the gay demographics. Which is awesome. Can we be friends, please? I think I need the dramatic slaps-in-the-face that only super gay men can deliver) Moving on. 

Remember waiting at your parents house for your first REAL date to come and pick you up? Think back to the 5 minutes before his actual arrival and remember the jitters. My parents live in the Grand Central Station of houses in my hometown so every car, every headlight reflection that hit the window, and every gravel chunk I heard I would tense up and my hands would shake. I would sneak into the darkest room on the front side of my house and squat down in the floor to open the blinds and peek out onto the highway so people (namely my date) wouldn't be able to see me stalking him out. This worked wonders because I had the upper hand and could put on my 'nonchalant face' like I wasn't about to go into cardiac arrest waiting on him five minutes before. Once he arrived though, my tension usually left me immediately. It was always just the anticipation of the arrival that made me spaz out.

Which brings me to my current situation. If you follow my blog religiously, you know that my Aunt Flo has turned out to be a real bitch in her old age of 15. Especially since I've gone off the pill. And even more especially since the miscarriage last November. Her arrival times have been anywhere from 25-33 days but her stay is always 5 days. Not so much this time. For 2 days (within the range that I expected her) I had these weird cramps. Not my normal excruciating pain cramps, just a weird crampy, not quite a stomach ache. But no blood. The third day, I had bright red (really light) but also had normal excruciating pain cramps. Thank Jesus every month so far has had me starting at home because it is almost unbearable. This time, I laid on the bed and had Mike lay across my stomach and roll side to side. This was the only thing to help ease the pain. Don't tell him I told you. The next morning, fourth day, I had no cramps and no blood. Fifth and sixth days, same thing. Nothing. Then on the seventh day, I woke up and had spotting for about half a day. 

Talk about spazzing out. I went straight to Dollar General after school (because I'm not spending a bajillion dollars on the fancy preggers test until I have a full blown missed period again). Of course I went to the bathroom as soon as I walked in the door but forgot to pee on the damn stick. (I'm so horrible at this--see my first blog for the reference.) I drank a bottle of water and waited for the urge then took the test. Negative. I didn't get upset, but I was kind of surprised. My periods, while they have a mind of their own lately, have NEVER been like that before. So I started BLOWING the internet UP for blogs from similar girls in my situation. I read that I could be pregnant but it's so early the hormones can't be detected. I read that I could be pregnant but since I drank so much water before I did the test, I could have diluted the hormone. I read so many responses to stories just like mine but the comments left by people were split right down the middle. "YES--this means pregnant." NO--you idiot. You've had 2 miscarriages in a year and your body is jacked up still. Get over yourself." <------My personal favorite. I started having a war in my head that lasted a day this week. I even convinced myself to call and try to schedule an appointment with a new doctor. (Insert new, gay, male BFF over-dramatic slap.) I'd had it. 

I finally broke down and called my doctor. I spilled my life story and medical history to some poor, unsuspecting nurse who instead of talking me down said, "Miss, let me get Dr. Gospodnetic to call you back". He did. We chatted for 15 minutes. I about got hysterical because I'm long over dealing with this insanity that is my period. He was so sweet and comforting, but he could offer me no answer. I'm 'inconclusive'. HA. I could have told him that long before I showed him my cukah. Basically, my ovulation is off. Which is causing my brain and logical thinking to be "off" too. He pulled all my stuff from my last exam in June and I'm still young and healthy and 2 miscarriages are still not uncommon. If I can make it through 2 more normal periods, then I can go back to him the 3rd month for testing. If I go another month with a bull#$% period, I have to go back in immediately following. 

I am my own worst enemy when it comes to this every single month. I don't even have on the "baby goggles". I just want my cycle back to normal for the love of Jehovah. It feels so nice to blog this out because I know my hubs is getting so tired of hearing me moan every 30 days, "OH MY GOD, GET ME PREGNANT OR PUT ME ON THE PILL, DAMN IT! I HATE PERIODS!"

It's been 2 days since I took a test. I have no symptoms of being pregnant other than 2 new zits on my face--which could be because I'm out of my 3-step and am too lazy to go buy a new stash. And, I'm tired. But let's face it people, I'm tired 24/7, 365. It has nothing to do with a bun in the oven. All fellow teachers can attest to this.

I'm definitely at the point where I'm squatting down in the living room, jumping at every sound, waiting. Do I take another test? If it's positive, that starts a whole new bout of 'crazy' nerves for me--like, "will I lose this one too?" If it's negative, that means I have another month to build myself up for "will I have a period? will it be normal?" I just want my "date" to get here so I can take off the crazy pants I seem to be wearing lately.

I can't promise you I won't leave for the store as soon as I log out of here. But I can promise you this...if it's a 'positive', you won't know about it until I pop that kid out at 9 months. If it's negative, you get a whole new round of bitchin' from me next month ;) Until then...

Graduated to Winks

Do you want the good news or the bad news first? Wise people choose bad first so they can end on a good note, so I'll be wise. I cheated. HORRIBLY. The first round of bootcamp was highly successful. You'd think I'd be in a size 4 now with the way I was eating and exercising like I was training for Rio 16. (Let's be honest, the only training I'll be doing for the Olympics is practicing typing "US SWIM TEAM" into the Google browser. Obsessively.) Anyway, I ended the first session down 10 pounds and a jeans size. Not too much of a change on the appearance but on the inside I felt soooo much better. Then we went on our annual "Lay Around On the Beach and Make Fun of People While Eating Any and Everything Known to Man Weekend Extravaganza". And it was awesome. Until I got home. Then I felt like utter cri-zap for a week because my body couldn't handle the binge I went on. I didn't work out for a week! This week I headed back to bootcamp and basically I'm back to jelly-legs and grandma lotion to soothe my totally out-of-shape muscles. 

Now for the good news: I did get on the scale last week and it only showed a .8 gain. (Only after I threatened to take its batteries out if it didn't show the number in the tens position I needed it to show. In this case, yes, bargaining was successful.) Darlene even winked at me during a workout this week when usually she has that concerned look like she's thinking "um, is she going to pass out?" You should be proud. I've been promoted from Grade: Pukey-Needs-A-Respirator to Grade: Winking. I can deal with winks. 

I feel like I'm back to decent number. My "paper weight" looks good. Paper weight, you ask? Oh yes. I have an actual weight and I have a paper weight. Actual weight is what the scale actually says. Paper weight is what I put down on paper when my weight is required on a questionnaire (i.e. driver's license, insurance forms, new doctor papers, i.d.'s etc.) Paper weight is usually 10-15 pounds below the actual weight. Don't even act like you've never lied on those things. I actually took my 'paper weight' a step further just a few months ago. I promise it was nothing illegal. The form was for some organization that wanted me to join and they asked me to fill out a survey. I had no intentions of joining so I expressed my creativity out on paper. It looked something like this (what I wrote is bolded, my comments as to why are italicized:

1. Name? Kristin Nicole Tanner Peeblays If Michael Buble can pronounce his 'b-l-e' like "blay" then I should be able to as well. And even better, my BLAY has an S. 
2. Sex? Um, I'd really rather get to know you first.
3. Weight? Somewhere between "not too heavy for a strong, male firefighter to carry me down the steps of a burning building--but probably only a flight" and "heavy enough for a PowerWheels to break down when I sit on it". 
4. Height? Just above the required height to be able to ride all the rides at any Disney-affiliated theme park. 
5. Eye color? Dark almond with tiny flecks of gold around the center if you use the lighted mirror at any Clinique counter in the US. (I formerly taught writing so I'm a fan of adjectives.)

And so on and so on. I've written quite a bit tonight and I haven't even shared the biography I'm working on entitled "Aunt Flo: Now You See Me, Now You Don't". I'll save that story for another day soon. Until then, I'll keep working out, eating (somewhat) better, and starting my new non-fiction piece "Stupid Periods and Other Crap People Trying to Have a Kid Go Through: for Dummies". Good night.