Bah! Work is cramping my blogging style again so the latest episode in the long running drama “I Anecdote” will have to wait till the weekend.
In the meantime, tell me if you’ve ever told the truth and then regretted doing so.
Weird thoughts occur to you as doze on the commuter train on the morning. What would my life have been like had I been good-looking? Would possessing a startling pair of nostrils like Kevin have altered my life path?
Would I have worked less hard at school and just floated about soaking up attention? Would being able to wear clothes without them looking as if they had fallen on me as I ran through a clothes line have given me confidence and led me to different decisions? What does it feel like to look in a mirror and think “mmmm”?
As I officially have the world’s most gorgeous blog readership let me know what it’s like. Rick you can chip in too if you want.
Just kidding big guy :0)
For a few nights now, P has been jabbing needles into her leg and injecting herself with hormones in order to “reboot” her hormonal system so that she progresses towards ovulation according the a timetable to suit the hospital’s convenience.
The drugs bring on the nightsweats which results in her having to peel herself from the bed in the morning but has the advantage of dissuading our allergen-enriched cat from tucking up beside her at night. They do not affect her mood except when I suggest that any passing grumpiness must be “down to the hormones” at which point she chases me round the house with a pair of kebab skewers and a garlic press, psychosis shining from her eyes.
Yes, mes amis, we are once again on the IVF treadmill. Though this is, definitively, the very last time.
I tell you because those of you not battle-hardened by following us through previous rounds may not be ready for the display of olympic-standard self-pity this usually brings on. It’ll be ugly round here for a bit and the sensitive among you may want to avert your gaze. For those of you who want to join us in this month’s trip over the emotional Niagra in a barrel, I’m grateful for your company and I suggest that you hold onto your hats.Â