Yay, woot, and other things.
Slight, vague, pregnancy scare this week. I mean, I knew it was very, very, super, crazy, incredibly unlikely, but once the merest hint of a possibility even nudged the edge of my brain, I got attacks of paranoia and I went a little bit insane. And by "a little bit", I mean "Charlie Sheen levels of insane".
I am, of course, on the pill. I hate children and I like sex, so it stands to reason. And I take the necessary latex precautions as well - however, there was a brief moment of doubt re: The Boy's willingness to overlook said precautions (basically, we were all set for Round 2 the other night and I noticed that he'd forgotten something. I mentioned it and he was all, "oh, yeah ... that". Yeah, that.) The thing is, he has two kids already, so there's no possible infertility safety net. He sure as hell doesn't want anymore, but his attitude is a little casual for someone who insists that two is enough. He was all "well, you're on the pill, aren't you?", and I explained that yes, I am on the pill, but it's only about 95% effective, and you just don't screw around with a 5% chance. Don't get me wrong, if fate screwed us over and went to town with that 5% chance, I'd be at the abortion clinic so fast my feet would peddle off the ground like Road Runners just before he runs away from the Coyote. But he seems to think that having an abortion is no big deal, if it happens it happens.
Now, not to belittle the feelings of anyone who has experienced an abortion and found it distressing, but that's not me - I mean, I actually think of the whole thing as kind of empowering. But that doesn't mean I don't want to avoid it, you know? After all, it's still an uncomfortable, girly, gyno kind of procedure, and it would probably mean time off work, which I really can't swing right now. I guess what I'm saying is, an abortion wouldn't be the end of the world, but surely it makes more sense to not need one in the first place?
So this week it was kind of an amalgamation of paranoid thoughts - what if the 5% chance, plus the tiny possibility that I may have forgotten to take the pill one day (I don't even know if i forgot or if I just worried myself into imagining that I might have), plus the boy's cavalier attitude toward Trojans all got together and conspired to play a cruel trick of fate and inflict an embryo on a childfree, kid-phobic woman? That would suck. That would suck big time. I spent the last three days desperately awaiting cramps, praying that every craving for salty snacks and icecream signified that the painters and decoraters would soon be in, and contemplating doing a second pregnancy test (I did one a couple of days ago, it was - surprise, surprise - negative, but the fine print in the evil little leaflet said hateful things about the possibility of a false negative). Like I said, there was almost no chance I actually was infected with an intra-uterine parasite, but I'm crazy.
And you know what? Craziness isn't helped by the fact that babies and pregnancy are EVERYWHERE. I watched "Raising Hope" yesterday, and what's the new episode about? Virginia and Sabrina's pregnancy scares. I logged on to facebook, and girls I went to school with were posting baby bump pictures for their fourth kid. I turn the tv channel over, and there's an advertisement for "Clear Blue" reliable indication pregnancy tests. I put on a SatC DVD to distract myself and pick a random episode - it's the one where Carrie worries she might be pregnant. Suddenly I'm convinced the world is trying to tell me something. I hate the world, and want it to shut up. I wonder if I should book a doctor's appointment - a few years ago I went in because I was feeling sick, and the first thing the doctor said to me was "Okay love, what are the chances you're pregnant?" with a huge grin on her face. I hate this memory. I hate the doctor (and no, I wasn't pregnant that time either, I had glandular fever, but apparently the easiest things to rule out first are pregnancy and diabetes. I swear, while she was waiting for the test results I was sitting there with my fingers crossed, mentally chanting "Come on, DIABETES!!!"). I want the doctor to shut up. I want Charlie Sheen to shut up.
Happily, I really was just insane, and there was nothing to worry about. Naturally my next conversation with The Boy is going to be very stern - no glove, no love. Honestly, there are other reasons for being safe anyway, and for all he knows I could have been with other people recently (I haven't, but he doesn't know that, and I don't know that he hasn't been with other women - he says he hasn't, but considering this is The Boy we're talking about, such claims have to be taken with a sizable grain of salt). Am going to see the doctor soon anyway too, and discuss Implanon and other such things, so as to minimise the need for craziness and fear in the future.
*Sigh* so that's me. How you all doing? :)
I am, of course, on the pill. I hate children and I like sex, so it stands to reason. And I take the necessary latex precautions as well - however, there was a brief moment of doubt re: The Boy's willingness to overlook said precautions (basically, we were all set for Round 2 the other night and I noticed that he'd forgotten something. I mentioned it and he was all, "oh, yeah ... that". Yeah, that.) The thing is, he has two kids already, so there's no possible infertility safety net. He sure as hell doesn't want anymore, but his attitude is a little casual for someone who insists that two is enough. He was all "well, you're on the pill, aren't you?", and I explained that yes, I am on the pill, but it's only about 95% effective, and you just don't screw around with a 5% chance. Don't get me wrong, if fate screwed us over and went to town with that 5% chance, I'd be at the abortion clinic so fast my feet would peddle off the ground like Road Runners just before he runs away from the Coyote. But he seems to think that having an abortion is no big deal, if it happens it happens.
Now, not to belittle the feelings of anyone who has experienced an abortion and found it distressing, but that's not me - I mean, I actually think of the whole thing as kind of empowering. But that doesn't mean I don't want to avoid it, you know? After all, it's still an uncomfortable, girly, gyno kind of procedure, and it would probably mean time off work, which I really can't swing right now. I guess what I'm saying is, an abortion wouldn't be the end of the world, but surely it makes more sense to not need one in the first place?
So this week it was kind of an amalgamation of paranoid thoughts - what if the 5% chance, plus the tiny possibility that I may have forgotten to take the pill one day (I don't even know if i forgot or if I just worried myself into imagining that I might have), plus the boy's cavalier attitude toward Trojans all got together and conspired to play a cruel trick of fate and inflict an embryo on a childfree, kid-phobic woman? That would suck. That would suck big time. I spent the last three days desperately awaiting cramps, praying that every craving for salty snacks and icecream signified that the painters and decoraters would soon be in, and contemplating doing a second pregnancy test (I did one a couple of days ago, it was - surprise, surprise - negative, but the fine print in the evil little leaflet said hateful things about the possibility of a false negative). Like I said, there was almost no chance I actually was infected with an intra-uterine parasite, but I'm crazy.
And you know what? Craziness isn't helped by the fact that babies and pregnancy are EVERYWHERE. I watched "Raising Hope" yesterday, and what's the new episode about? Virginia and Sabrina's pregnancy scares. I logged on to facebook, and girls I went to school with were posting baby bump pictures for their fourth kid. I turn the tv channel over, and there's an advertisement for "Clear Blue" reliable indication pregnancy tests. I put on a SatC DVD to distract myself and pick a random episode - it's the one where Carrie worries she might be pregnant. Suddenly I'm convinced the world is trying to tell me something. I hate the world, and want it to shut up. I wonder if I should book a doctor's appointment - a few years ago I went in because I was feeling sick, and the first thing the doctor said to me was "Okay love, what are the chances you're pregnant?" with a huge grin on her face. I hate this memory. I hate the doctor (and no, I wasn't pregnant that time either, I had glandular fever, but apparently the easiest things to rule out first are pregnancy and diabetes. I swear, while she was waiting for the test results I was sitting there with my fingers crossed, mentally chanting "Come on, DIABETES!!!"). I want the doctor to shut up. I want Charlie Sheen to shut up.
Happily, I really was just insane, and there was nothing to worry about. Naturally my next conversation with The Boy is going to be very stern - no glove, no love. Honestly, there are other reasons for being safe anyway, and for all he knows I could have been with other people recently (I haven't, but he doesn't know that, and I don't know that he hasn't been with other women - he says he hasn't, but considering this is The Boy we're talking about, such claims have to be taken with a sizable grain of salt). Am going to see the doctor soon anyway too, and discuss Implanon and other such things, so as to minimise the need for craziness and fear in the future.
*Sigh* so that's me. How you all doing? :)