Will(not) Power

Two weeks ago, I went to see Dr. Larry Griffin about my unusually absent Aunt. You see, my horrible Aunt Flo likes to turn up- unwelcome- around the same time every month. In retrospect, I suppose I should be grateful for her continued presence in my life- her monthly visits mean my lady parts are working correctly. But in my defense, its hard to be happy about her week-long stay when her best attribute is her ability to inflict pain.

Whatever.

So, when she never showed, I made an appointment with my doctor to figure all this out. And by figure out, I mean I wanted him to tell me what I longed to hear. Which basically means I hoped he would tell me I was pregnant.

So of course, he didn't.

What he told me instead was that there are so many things that can affect a woman's reproductive system and its likely that something of the sort had thrown my body out of whack. Color me disappointed. He continued by saying excessive stress can alter or temporarily stop a cycle. I nodded. Yeah, I've been under some stress. Yes, there's been a lot going on.

And then almost as an aside, he said, 'oh and being heavy can sometimes affect reproduction.'

Ouch.

And very true.

I know I'm no Olive Oil, but it still stung a little. The rational part of my brain told me that he's just doing his job- that he's concerned about my well-being. The other half was thinking that I'm totally paying this guy to insult me. I know, I know. He wasn't really being mean. Except in my mind, he might as well have looked me in the eyes and said, 'Holy crow! We need to get you back to the ocean, Shamu.'

Does that ever happen to anyone else? You go to the doctor and feel like he's just slipping in some insults like, 'that mole is looking a little funny.' Or 'you should think about losing some weight.' Or 'your blood pressure is too high.' Thanks, doc. Here's some money. We should do this again sometime. I'm just gonna take my weird-looking mole home now and cry. But I digress...

When I finally got my blood test results, I wasn't so surprised to find that I was indeed not pregnant. I took myself down to Walgreens to fill my prescription for Provera, a medicine that is supposed to make me start my period. Awesome. And then another doctors appointment to determine the next step which will most likely be Clomid (a drug to make me ovulate). We'll see.

So now I'm determined to lose weight. Sure I want a Big Mac and a caramel Frappe, but there are things I want more. Like a baby. Things that I might not be able to have if I keep eating every french fry I can get my hands on.

Why, then, did my breakfast consist of a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit, and a hash brown. Eesh. This is going to be a nightmare not going to be easy. Clearly, my willpower is nonexistent lacking. Instead of strong willpower, I have will(not)power. Dang.

To keep my mind of these reproductive issues, I went to the NKOTBSB concert. It. was. AWESOME. Definitely brought out my inner child. Took me back to the nineties. I had a blast. Yes, I am still a Backstreet Boys fan. Yes, I listen to their CDs in my car. A lot. And okay, I admit to having every single album they ever made, even the ones not released in the United States.

I wonder what John would say if he came home to BSB posters all over our bedroom walls. I doubt he would like that. Oh well.

Anywho, goodnight from your friend, a ridiculously obsessed huge Backstreet Boy fan.

You. Me. This blog. Right now.

I don't get out much. Its depressing. I find myself sitting at home in my pajamas and talking to myself my dog. And occasionally, drinking a big glass of chocolate milk.

Seriously. At twenty-five, I am well on my way to becoming one of those wrinkled, old-moo moo-wearing-ladies with the run-down, corner house and fourteen cats.

So, I will try to make this update as interesting as possible. No promises. And no refunds.

As you well know, I have been struggling with patience and my obsession with desire for motherhood. In fact, this longing has threatened to drive driven me insane. I am constantly wondering if I could be pregnant. How neurotic of me, I know. In fact, any perceived symptom throws me into a tizzy: 'Oh man! I've been using the bathroom more frequently... could this be a symptom?' Never mind that I just drank three cups of ridiculously sugary coffee and then proceeded to down a gallon of water and a liter of Gatorade. Instead of thinking logically about my increased trips to the ladies' room (I just drowned my kidneys in liquid, so of course they have to work overtime), I immediately start to wonder if I could be pregnant. Maybe I should talk to someone... I do work at a psychiatric hospital, after all.

Mental health notwithstanding, I am enjoying my role as 'Video Monitoring Tech.' Its absurdly easy. And fairly stress-free. Definitely not rocket science. Occasionally, there will be some drama. That's to be expected when you lock four very different people in a closet sized room for 12 hours. But any disagreements typically get resolved in an after work meeting- fight club style ('You. Me. Parking lot. Seven o'clock'). The first person to bleed loses and has to bring everyone donuts the next day. Okay, I'm kidding about the donuts.

Workplace violence aside, I like my co-workers. There is a lot of joking that goes on in the camera room. And sometimes, we even get some work done. Sometimes. Anyway, I like that I can actually go to work without having to munch on Tums like they're Hershey kisses.

Even though I like my job, its still nice to come home. And speaking of home, our house is almost finished. There is still some painting that needs to be done, but for the most part, it is finished. Hallelujah. Its slightly uncomfortable really weird to go downstairs at 9am and find a strange man with a drill standing in your kitchen when you're just trying to let the dog out. There could be a serial killer hanging out in my kitchen holding a screw driver and I wouldn't think twice about- just nod to him and say good morning. Business as usual.

Needless to say, I will be ecstatic when all the work is done. Just a few more rooms to paint, mirrors to hang, doorknobs to attach, and parts of foundation to seal. And then the complete unpacking of all our junk prized possessions can begin.

But sadly, I think that everything still going on with our house and the recent loss of my grandpa has taken its toll on me mentally and physically. It was an emotional few months and it has absolutely exhausted me. I have not been eating healthy foods (mainly because I lack the drive and energy to cook) nor have I even glimpsed at the treadmill (which is really a shame since I am currently trying to get myself in gear to run a 5k in September). Oh how I wish I could say, 'I had to stop adding that extra dollop of whip cream to my coffee because it'll go straight to my eyelashes. They're getting entirely too long and thick.' The only thing getting thicker here is my thighs. But I know I'll get my butt in gear eventually.

Unlike my Discover card at the Our Lady of Peace cafeteria, payers are accepted and appreciated greatly.