The Friday afternoon after my negative beta I got drunk.

I got drunk by myself.

I got drunk on a bottle of Prosecco, ate a whole platter of Spanikopita, sat my fat, drunk ass down and watched an episode of “The Jersey Shore”.  This, I have to say…helped. For an hour or so my life seemed pretty ok compared to these Empire State imposters acting the fool and getting all drun-….ok.  Nevermind. 

I started AF on Sunday.  She came on like a bounty hunter and my pride was the prize.  I almost forgot how my body fails me when she’s in town.  The diaper pads, the gas, the pain, the cramps, the flow from hell!!  CHRIST ON A CRACKER  it’s always so DISGUSTING!!  Plus, I’m such a mental patient I refuse to wear a tampon.  Like I’m being some au-natural forest pixie or something. Like I didn’t just down 25 ounces of fermented grapes.  Like it’s gonna help.  Riiiiiiight.

In all honesty, I’m glad she’s here at last because this starts our next round on the FET wheel of fate.  This is when I grab hold of that peg like some glassy-eyed contestant on the “Price is Right”, rock back on my heels and give it another spin. 

Oh boy, do I hope we land on double pink this time around.

Starting BCP’s tomorrow.

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