Sigh. Well the heroic s-e-x that I had planned for last night never came to be – largely due to an emotional breakdown on my part.
I got home at 4:45 and needed to leave at 7:15. We walked the dogs, made and ate dinner, and then I had about 40 minutes left for the s-e-x. I gave the dogs their kongs and peanut butter and went upstairs. My husband took probably about 3 minutes to follow me upstairs and that was enough to completely flip me out.
I currently feel the least sexy I have ever felt. I’m unhappy with my current weight but too tempted by junk food to be able to fix it. I have terrible acne which I can’t treat because it needs antibiotics I can’t take while we are TTC. I don’t like my latest haircut, so I kind of feel like a boy (or an ugly girl). I have been so uncomfortably constipated that my abdomen feels sore to the touch. My boobs hurt. All in all, I don’t want to be touched, I feel disgusting, and believe it or not that did not lead up to a raucous lovemaking session.
Then I started beating myself up about how stupid the whole thing was – obviously I’m not ovulating and I was foolish to think I was, right?
So I told A to “just cancel the whole thing, just forget it”, and proceeded to cry. He (understandably) is growing extremely frustrated with my mood swings and general dissatisfaction with life over the past year, so he got ticked off and I ended up storming out of the room to do the dishes instead of him.
This morning I felt terrible – 30 minutes or so of constant nausea, which could only be cured by teeny tiny bites of a blueberry bagel. I woke up with a stabbing pain under my belly button – more constipation, I’m sure. Then I bought some strawberries from the work cafeteria and I swear to god they tasted like onions. My coworker tasted them and thought they were fine. So between that and the morning nausea, I have to admit I got a little flicker of hope that maybe I was pregnant.
Of course that’s probably ridiculous.