So, there was all this stuff that I stopped doing/put off when we started TTC, because pSHAW, I was going to be SO knocked up likethat, what was the point?  Ha! A haha hah ahha ha. Just because every female member of your family, and your husband’s family, has gotten pregnant while in line at the post office, accidentally, does not mean YOU will.  ANYWAY.

I dug up an old goal, inspired by princessjeanne, which is to be one of those assholes that runs IN PUBLIC and even on COLD DAYS.  I have the shoes, upstairs, put away last summer because FOR SURE I was pregnant, or close to it, and don’t want to jog the baby right out of my pagina, now do I? NO! Just like I don’t want to waste all that money on staying on Weight Watchers, or spend all that petty cash on heroin.  (If only I’d kept up with the heroin, that certainly would have found me pregnant, sigh.) No, the BABY will need all of those resources, so I better ease up! And besides, how could I buy OPKs, HPTs, and special sperm-friendly internet-only lube if I’d spent all my money on stupid shit like HEALTH? Ahem.

In pursuit of the make my fatass run up and down the streets of Bangor, I followed PJ’s lead and looked up the Couch-to-5k plan.  With the days stretching out, bit by bit, and my ass doing the same, it’s time to get physical, let’s gee-eett physical, let me hear your body talk! Oh, whoops.

This is my goal.  Three times a week. I should be able to do that. Even if I go in the dark, in my Invisible Pedestrian costume to start. I even started a running log at that site, which I will link to after my first go.  Right now, I have the couch part down PAT. BooYAH! Someone come dump Gatorade on my head! WHOOO!

So, that is my goal.  I’m pretty good at hyperfocusing on shit, and maybe I should hyperfocus on my teaching or my grad school, but no. I need to do something for me that doesn’t use my brains, because I know my brains work like they should, and better than most.  Instead, I need to get my body to do what I want it to, because me and my body are just not on good terms right now.  I’d ask it to sleep on the couch, but I’d miss Dave too much.

(And if anyone wants to be part of some type of C25k support system, let me know.)

So, here’s the new hair, which really doesn’t look much different than the old hair in my userpic, except that the userpic was taken last summer.  I did a before pic but didn’t transfer it by accident, and now can’t be bothered.  Also, the red is REALLY. SUBTLE. It’s noticeable in person, but not so much in my bathroom, via the mirror.

See? SUBTLE.  Not next time, though. Next time, I GO NUTS.

This is a closeup of pre-haircut, wherein I spotlight the white hair. Do you see it? That’s not a reflection, and there’s more than one. NICE, huh?

My beautiful family, in my ugly bedroom. (This is the room we’re trying to pick paint for.)

I’ve mentioned how FatKitty ‘sleeps like a human.’  Here she is, caught in the act.  Almost every morning, I wake up on this side, and Dave is behind her, and we are all spooning.  You can go throw up now.  When we do have kids, we plan to co-sleep, and the biggest concern isn’t "will we roll over the baby?" but "What will FatKitty do?"  We’ve been trying to train her to sleep at the foot of the bed, but by morning, here she is.

See, look at that. New hair, lovely family, warm bed with flannel and feathers, and wireless internet. Sure our room is ugly, but we’re working on that. 🙂

Better. Really.

I went to the bookstore this afternoon and after tearing up while thumbing through a book about Andre the seal (I seriously started to cry when it talked about him dying, argh) I picked up a remaindered paperback called "Plane Insanity," which is a collection of stories from a flight attendant about various funny/weird/sick things that have happened at his job. You cannot get any more mindless than that, and it was just what I needed.  I took it down to the Bagel Shop, where I read it, IN PUBLIC!, and ate a chocolate half-moon and drank a large mocha in the sunshine.  Then, I went to my hair appointment, where I proceeded to get highlights!

Now, here’s the thing. Some backstory, if you will.

A few weeks ago, Dave emailed me at school about a spoiler that someone on one of his RS forums was selling.  It was 150 bucks, but "it’s already painted the color of my car! and he’ll ship it free! Can I get it?"  Shortly after that email, he sent me one with the subject "NO BABIES!" and a link to an article he read on somethingawful about a baby born without a face. Tragic, for sure, and I emailed him back and said "Good thing her parents had money to pay for all those surgeries, and they hadn’t spent it on a SPOILER."  It went back and forth, he ended up buying it "because it will be 300 at any other time!" and because we have the money. (No debt for a goddamn spoiler. PUH-leeze.)  Anyway, 2 days after he bought the spoiler, he got a ticket for having an uninspected car, which has been another point of contention between us.  He wouldn’t get a new sticker because it expired in March, and didn’t want to pay the 8 bucks (EIGHT BUCKS!) to have to renew it in less than a year.  I, champion of extending the life of an inspection sticker *cough*, told him that that’s not how it works, they give you a sticker for the month you inspect it, so his March sticker would be replaced by an August one, or whatever.  Anyway.  One hundred and thirty two dollars later, he’s working on getting that eight (fucking!) dollar inspection sticker taken care of.

These two events have led to great ribbing by me, to him.  "We need stamps so I can send out the mortgage check…" he’ll say, and I’ll say something like "What, oh yeah, you spent all your money on a spoiler and a ticket, that’s right!"  In a very friendly, mocking manner. Like a big "I TOLD YOU SO."  We love each other, though, so Dr Phil doesn’t need to get involved or anything.

So, today, I get my hair cut and highlighted, and the stylist did a good job of making it look natural, I liked it, and went to pay.  "92.75," she said. What? What the fucking fuck?  I spend less than 30 bucks a year on my haircuts, I get one, in June or July, and that’s it.  I haven’t ever had a hair bill be that much.  I was cool though, and paid and left a tip (maybe too small, but I couldn’t go over 100 bucks, I just couldn’t) and went out to the car and called amy. "I think I have to lie to my husband! I just spent a buttload of money on my HAIR!"  Amy talked me down, "Gretchen, you get one haircut a year for 10 years, and then one dye job, if you average it out, it’s still super cheap." Okay, sure it is.  Then she told me about her experience of a $400 dollar botched dye job at an "exclusive day spa" that led to her having a cashless birthday and filing a complaint with the BBB. So I felt better.

Dave liked it, it looks fine, and I think when it wears out I will do a more drastic change, at home.

Because fuck, at least the spoiler will still be visible in 6 weeks.

Oh, thank you so much for your comments and emails.  I was a little afraid to put that out there and seeming dramatic, but I think you get it. So, thanks.

On the upside! I have an appointment at 3:30 to get my hair cut and OH MY GOD, HIGHLIGHTED.  I have never had any sort of professional coloring done, and I’m pretty sure I’ve spent a great deal of time making fun if highlights, but, there you go.  I am getting so much white hair (not gray, white, like fishins line) that I’m taking the plunge.  My mother grayed so early that I don’t remember her natural hair color, and only in the last year did she let it go gray. My sister dodged the bullet by being a blonde, I think, but I did not.  My kids are always freaked out when I pull up a part of hair and reveal a very Bride of Frankensteinish white streak (of course, I pull it up and say "See this! YOU DID THIS!" but that’s another story.), so I’m hitting the bottle. Holy nuts.

I still haven’t started bleeding, and was telling PJ, "HAHAHA, wouldn’t that be funny that my first ‘sign’ was hopeless depression and fear of impending sanity!"  And, fuck it, I’ve had sushi and beer in the past 2 weeks, so why not dye my hair, too. If I’m going for the Murphy’s law fertility treatment, that pretty much completes the trifecta.

And, part of why this feels so big and scary is that in Maine, fertility is not covered by insurance.  We do not have the money to do it ourselves, or to even adopt if we wanted to.  Our only feasible track to parenthood is the DIY method, and that’s why it’s crushing me a little more each month.  Our next best option would be to be foster parents, which is it’s own complicated process.

What’s hard is that this is all I’ve ever wanted, ever.  I played with dolls long after my friends stopped.  I have always been fascinated by pregnancy and birth, since I was a little kid and played "pregnant mom" when we played house.  It is only recently that I’ve been able to work on fulfilling that dream, and that it’s not. happening. yet. is what is so painful.  I know it’s still early, in so many ways. But it still scares the living shit right out of me that it might not happen.

After talking to Amy, "I read the first line and just decided to call," and my husband "have you been crying?" I have a plan.

First. I am going to Shaw’s and buying salad stuff.  I can make a salad. I can do that.

Second.  It is still early, but if this isn’t the month, then next week I will go to my doc and see about Wellbutrin.

I’m not a fan of meds, in any form, I rarely take ibuprofen (maybe 6x a year, total) so I don’t like the idea, but I also don’t like the way this is breaking me apart. I used it to quit smoking, I can use it again.

It will all be okay.

I’m really beginning to think that I am depressed.  Not bummed depressed, but DE. PRESSED.

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