The Violet Shorts

When I read my last post, I was worried that I'd offend some people, because I know that losing 20 pounds doesn't seem like a lot, and that I'm bitching unnecessarily. So, I do apologize if it looks like I'm being a whiny bitch-it's not my intention. Honestly, when I tell people my weight they're surprised at the number, so I don't care about the number. I think that, for me, losing the weight and getting fit is more of a control issue than being the weight I am. I can't control if my uterus or tubes are working correctly, I can't control if I get OHSS in an IVF cycle or not, and I can't control whether an embryo will or won't implant into my uterus, but I CAN control what my body looks like. I do have the ability to become healthier, and that's what I'm going to try to do. Perhaps that's why I'm so determined-it's one of the things that I do have some sway over.

That's not to say that I'll always eat in a healthy way, but I'm not going to beat myself up over it, either. It's unrealistic to think that I won't fall off the bandwagon. But, I'm going to try my hardest not to. So, if anyone wants to join in on the bandwagon, feel free. It might be nice to have an exercise buddy, instead of a cycle buddy, for a change.

I stopped by the gym yesterday afternoon to make sure that all of my information was there (which it was). Did I actually go in and work out, do you ask?

No. But, I did get some exercise yesterday (and I didn't eat shitty food, either.......and I was in the mall! Now THAT's willpower, since Auntie Anne's pretzels were on the way to the sporting goods store.....mmm......)

Because I went to the sporting goods store and bought about $200 worth of exercise gear-sneakers, sweats, a gym bag (Buddy peed in the last one I had), two sport bras, made especially for the "well-endowed", socks, and a combination lock. Since I spent about an hour in the store lugging said items back and forth on two floors (they don't have carts in the store), I feel that I got some lifting and cardio out of it.......okay, perhaps I'm spreading that a little thing, but nonetheless.....

I also purchased a pair of cute violet shorts, on clearance. They're a little shorter than I'd normally wear (that length being the equivalent of two kitchen Hefty bags wrapped around my thighs), but I did it on purpose. I hung the shorts up in my closet, where I can see them every morning. They're my incentive to losing the pounds and toning my body. I WILL get into these shorts, and I'll wear them in the gym and strut my bad self around, albeit with a noticeably smaller tush and thighs.

It's all about the control, everyone. I've been putting my body in the hands of others for the past five years-doctors, nurses, acupuncturists-and I've let them have all the control in my life-what to eat or not eat, what OTC meds I should/shouldn't take, blah blah bloody blah. And, I've felt, by doing that, I've given up control over my own path in life. Now it's time to resume my own path, to take back the control from others.

There is that saying that "God helps those who helps themselves", and, in this instance, it's so true. Nobody can help me if I sit on my ever-growing ass and cry, "poor me". I can't control my fertility, but I can control whether or not it makes me the victim in all of this. I am not a victim-it's just bad fucking luck all around. No, I can't change my infertility, but I can look damn good while I'm in the middle of it all. I can try to feel good about what I look like on the outside, regardless of my body's inability to conceive. And, I really, truly need to feel good about myself, for a change.

Hopefully by Easter there will be a start of a change-like a metamorphosis of sorts. I will be the infertile chickie with the smokin' bod-I will wear a two piece bathing suit this summer.

I will. Just you wait and see.

Oink, Oink

Can you hear that? That oinking sound coming from your computer?

That's me. 'Cause I'm a big fat pig.

I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror right now. I actually got on the scale today (after digging it out of the bottom of the hall closet) and was shocked to see the needle hovering around 153lbs. Holy fucking shit.

Okay, before you say that's not a lot, it is for me, since I'm normally around 135lbs. I'm only about five-four and a half, and, although my chest is large (now up to a 34DD from a 34D), it's my belly that's the problem. The belly that is now every so obviously hanging over my pants. The belly that no shirt can completely cover. The belly that jiggles and gives a "muffin top" (hell, let's get real-it's a bundt cake) over every pair of pants I own.

And my thighs and ass.......oh my GOD. I actually now am beginning to resemble a whole oven stuffer roaster that's been lifted up so it's "standing" up-big belly and thighs and small from the knees down.

It's time to take off the pounds and get my life back in order.

It's about fucking time, as far as I'm concerned

Pity Party-Table for One

Well folks, the pity party is in full swing.

To say that I'm disappointed is an understatement. To say that I'm absolutely gutted is probably more accurate. I cried my eyes out on Monday-literally. I actually broke a blood vessel in my left eye due to all the crying and blowing of the nose, so now I look AND feel like shit. The "crime scene" also arrived promptly yesterday at lunchtime, and what a doozy it is. I had forgotten just how much I adore the After Progesterone Period-large clots and all. Wonderfuckingful. And then, Murphy's Law being a cruel thing with a nasty sense of humor, I had to wait in the self-serve line to buy the mega-box of Tampax at the supermarket next to a hugely pregnant woman, who was on a junk food binge, from looking at her handbasket.

*Sigh* Just another day in my fucked-up existence.

I'm angry, fuming. What the hell did I do wrong? Why won't this work for me? Why the hell do I have to be still in this position?

Of course, there are no answers-at least, not as of yet. But I seriously doubt that there will be any. I mean, what will be said "Oh, well, it's just the luck of the draw......your eggs are great, sperm is great, uterine lining was wonderful, hormone levels were spot-on....". See, I don't need the follow-up appointment-I can just recite that and save the gas money. But I DO want answers-we only have one more shot at this, and then we have to throw in the towel (unless we hit the lottery, then its FREE CYCLES FOR EVERYONE!), so I want to make sure that they are doing everything possible to get me (and keep me) pregnant. And, it keeps coming back to what's inside my body-those tubes. I don't know what they look like, nor does any doctor. Should they do an exploratory lap to find out exactly what's going on? I don't know. Dr. Pipsqueak doesn't think so-she's afraid that it will create scar tissue. But if it's fucked up in there already, what more harm can it do? Not that I want surgery, mind you; but I am so afraid of doing another cycle and having it fail.

I just don't know what to do anymore. I want to cry, but there are no tears left-just bitterness.