I’m beginning to think that my mom’s sister Florence is on the express train to my body.
I had cramps yesterday (day 8 ) and the night before (day 7). Implantation, you say? That’s what I thought the first six times that happened. Actually, I never had cramps on day 7 before, but still…
I’m not actually bitchy, but I had a bitchy-ass dream in which I was the meanest teacher in the world. I was screaming in a really high register, like if Barry Gibb were to scream at seven-year-olds. I woke up tired. I take it as a bad omen.
My boobs still hurt. But I’m thinking maybe it might be a side-effect of the injectionables. Not that I read the little insert to check. Maybe I should.
But I’m also being a doubting Thomisina because my straight preggo friend, Nelly advised it. I hope she doesn’t mind if I quote her email, seeing as she has a codename and all:
“at least in my experience, when you’re the least optimistic about getting knocked up, you will. it happened to me, twice. so you should be drinking and dying your hair and lifting heavy objects to illustrate how NOT pg you are.”
Of course I’m too much of a goody two-shoes to follow her advice thoroughly during the TWW. I am trying on pessimism for size . (Again. I feel like I say the word “again” an awful lot on this blog.)