Throat Tears and Bumpy Chins

Last night I had a bad dream. I was pregnant. I was so excited. I thought, finally, another chance at it again! My dream ended with me taking a pregnancy test.

The test was negative.

I woke up with tears in my esophagus and my lungs tight with asthmatic heartache.  It was 4am in the morning. 

Not only was it just a dream but my dang lungs were only working at like 75%.  Wheezing like a teapot calling for relief.

Every month it's the same thing.  I check my Woman's Log on my phone, look at the little flowers dotting the days.  They represent when I am supposed to be ovulating.  I don't really track whether or not I am in "get me pregnant" mode but I always rush to my phone to track the days when the sudd-muffin and I get together.

A quick squeeze to my boobs - check for soreness.  A fluttering of fingers over my chin - because after losing one of my Fallopian tubes, I now get acne on my chin every month when aunt flow visits.  There was one bump there.  Of course that could be attributed to the Little Debbie brownies I ate this week.  Little Debbie and not Hostess - couldn't find any dang chocolate icing donuts! 

Didn't need them anyway.

I also pay close attention to my attitude: am I a bit snappy?  Did that librarian really piss me off? Is my sudd-muffin a little too touchy right now? Did Rina's blonde moment NOT bring a laugh to my lips?  Did my sudd-muffin just give me one of those breath stealing kisses and my laughter bubbled and fell hard against his lips causing him to back away slowly in disgust?

Yes, si, Ja, Haji and yep.  It's like I took TWO pregnancy tests in one day.

Therefore, Aunt Flo is right around the corner. 

I have a plan though.

I'm going to elope. I'm going to eat lot's of period delaying foods as well as embark on a herculean athletic mission. To further delay Aunt Flo's arrival. 

Then, I will use Bing's search engine (because I need more Bing points to buy Starbucks gift cards) to look up herbs I can ingest to FURTHER delay Aunt Flo's infamous anchorage on my butt, belly and hips in the form of bloating, increased desire for junk foods and extreme fatigue.

Finally, as my body waves a long goodbye to Aunt Flo's retreating back with my middle fingers of all things, I will crawl under by bed covers.  I will purge by letting this emotional dam break to flood my pillow and mattress with the postpartum depression laced tears that have wed in the pools of my tear ducts for the last year.

Or better yet, I'm gonna just eat an Entenmann's chocolate doughnut and succumb to the inevitable. 

It all sounded fun though. 

In the middle of this post my sudd-muffin must needs to know what the heck Pit Bull means when he says "Dale". 

I could only laugh out loud as he slides his hands up and down my arm and repeats the phrase...."Dale"......- unbeknownst to him the content of this blog post.

I love my life.