It’s that time again. The time to involuntarily obsess over every twinge and ache. To grope my breasts frequently checking for unusual tenderness. To try to determine whether I’m sleep-deprived tired or growing-a-human tired. To over analyze each food aversion. To sit. To wait.
I long for a good distraction, but work is slow, and getting work is downright depressing. So I guess my only choice is to delegate the job to you. This will be fun. I swear.
Your mission is to carefully observe your body, looking for signs of pregnancy. I don’t care if you’re menopausal or a teenage boy–if you listen close enough, your body will probably give you plenty of pregnancy signs to obsess over. For example, my husband had an intense craving for mushrooms and we’re still waiting for his period to come. So it’s pretty likely that he’s pregnant, right?
And in other news, I attended the marital and family class today at church. I somehow got it into my head that it would be fun. Basically the highlight of the class was when the weird woman who smiles and stares (really. It’s creepy) informed us that she and her (ambiguously gay) spouse did not kiss until their wedding day, over the altar.
And no one was surprised.