Seven things I thought about while I was in the bathroom this afternoon showering, drying my hair, fixing my face, and getting dressed.

1. Ganglion cyst
My accursed cyst disappeared sometime yesterday afternoon ALL BY ITSELF! I mean, it was there around three or four yesterday afternoon, I remember because I was trying on a mitten I was knitting and I saw it there, then at dinner at Noodle House last night with Tahmi & Jason I noticed that IT WAS GONE! Halleluia. For real.

Some might not consider a ganglion cyst a ‘personal hygiene’ issue, but I hated it the way I hate a mutant eyebrow hair or a hangnail or a zit.

2. Pudgelette
My God, how did I get so fat?!?

I put on a pair of jeans today (that I last wore before my BFP, a mere seven weeks ago) and damn if I can barely breathe in them. Damn!

3. Perfect nails
I had perfect nails just three days ago. Like, PERFECT. Like, “Are you drinking gelatin?” perfect.

Then life happened. Now I have a bunch of no-nails and about four freakishly long ones, like those sickening coke nails hipsters and dudes called Huggy grew in the 70’s.

4. Body hair
If I didn’t love y’all, I’d take a post a picture of the HUGE WAD OF HAIR that coagulated forlornly in the drain after my shower today, but I do so I won’t.

Suffice it to say that whatever wonder pregnancy hormones had wrought is well past now, and I’m back to going bald again. GOD DAMN IT.

To add insult to injury, my amusing and dismaying colony of chest hair has grown back since its last shave with a fucking vengeance.

5. Makeup
I saw The Mummy the other night. There’s a scene in it where the female lead is dressed up like a Bedoin or something, in veils and black eyeliner.

I just happen to own a container of honest-to-goodness middle eastern kohl, given to me by Ilana Iguana for my birthday about a decade ago. It came with a metal applicator – basically a giant, round-pointed toothpick – which I’ve lost. But the lid unscrews and it has a built in plastic applicator in it. To apply this wondrous eyeliner, you just put the applicator between your lids, close your eyes, and draw it from the inner to outer corners. When you open your eyes, YOU LOOK FANTASTIC. Seriously. Dude.

As a contact wearer, I don’t apply it that way: I draw it on like a pencil, and only on the lower lid. Then I swoop on some mascara and I feel pretty and Eastern-looking. (Fat, but pretty.)

6. Teeth
I need to get my teeth cleaned.

About two years ago.

7. Sex appeal
The wonderful thing about my husband is that no matter what, no matter if I’m pudgy or losing my hair or if I have a giant zit on my nose or I haven’t bothered to bathe in three days or I haven’t bothered to wear clothes that MATCH let alone take any care whatsoever with my appearance and I look frumpy and unloveable, he always makes it perfectly clear that he still wants to Do It with me.

Because he’s wonderful. 🙂

I just went to Mi-T-Mart for a treat. It smells like rancid chicken fat and melted engine parts in the parking lot.

It was so intense I decided to share.

No doubt it will blow away soon.
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My desire to posess an iPod is becoming almost absurd.

By God, I want one! Now!

The more I think about it, the more I want it!

I want to carry five thousand songs in my pocket! I want to listen to audio books! I want backlighting! I want solitaire! I want, I want, I want!

I got scolded by a friend via email for letting my blog basically be a cliffhanger – is she pregnant? does she have a job? and what about Christmas shopping?

Well, sorry. Here’s the update.

I have no pregnancy symptoms at all and I think I need a D&C pretty much ASAP. I’ve put in a call to my midwife for advice on that front; in the worst case I’ll drive up to IC to the clinic I used to go to. I don’t have any pain and I’m not running a temperature, so I should be fine for another day or two. This is, I believe, what you call a ‘missed abortion.’ And no, it isn’t any fun at all.

My job is fine. They didn’t cut pay nor lay anyone else off. I missed the meeting Friday, but Buzz emailed to say it was just an informational meeting about the ILEC.

And no, I haven’t done a lick of Christmas shopping. I’m pretty much totally involved with my own little health journey right now. Hopefully I’ll get the gift-buying done before X-mas eve, though!

My attitude wobbles from adequate to fairly bad. I feel like a hypochondriac because I’m worried sick about what’s not going on in my uterus, but like I said I really don’t have any reason to be worried. I’m tired or more likely a wee bit depressed, and I don’t entirely trust that my hormones are letting me perceive my emotional reality accurately.

All in all, everything is normal – no reason to panic. Oh, and fertility sucks.
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Yesterday I made a loaf of bread in the bread machine. Last night I had a midnight snack of fresh bread with butter and rasperry jam. OMFG that’s good stuff!
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(I’m just bitching. You probably shouldn’t read this.)

I guess I feel better today, I’m not sure. I’ve felt bad so consistently for the past while that I probably don’t feel better and I just can’t tell.

Right now I’m starving again. I also feel fat – I’ve probably gained ten pounds and five of its boobs I don’t want (and which make me feel matronly). So feel starving but I look like I’m three inches short of being perfectly round. (Yes, I’m exagerating. But only the slightest bit.)

My husband continues to be a saint. He asks frequently how I’m doing, offers to pet and cuddle me, shoots compassionate glances my way, and tries to make me giggle. I don’t feel that I’m at all worthy of him. I also feel sad that he’s not getting anything back from me; it’s all I can do to sit and scratch his back for a few minutes, and he’s still sleeping on the futon to give me space. I’ve cooked for him maybe three times in the past month. He’s got clean clothes, but that’s about it. I doubt he cares about chores all that much; what I’m trying to say is that I feel sad that he has to hang out with a morose and confused wife every evening.
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