(Start with "Monday" if you can. If I do say so myself, yesterday's post wasn't half bad. I can't vouch for the other forty-nine percent though.) So, what were we talking about? Oh right. The people we work with, some of whom know our reproductive secrets.
Most of us don't readily spill our guts to just anybody at work. So when we consider who might be a good candidate to confide in we might ask ourselves: "Is this a caring person? Is this a person who will be sympathetic and sensitive to my situation?" Wrong!
If you want to tell somebody at work your infertility business there's only one soul-searching question you have to ask yourself: "Will this person get plastered at the company holiday party and float my secrets down the River Rum?" And for that matter: Will my spouse?Seriously, if your husband or wife, partner, (or however you refer to that other person intimately supporting your conception efforts) doesn't handle liquor well... Look out! Nothing's worse than having your husband or wife, partner (do I really have to go through the whole list every time?)..
Nothing's worse than having your, let's say husband, accompany you to YOUR company party, make a fool out of both of you on Friday night in front of all your coworkers, colleagues, supervisors etc., then Monday morning, the only one out of the two hundred in attendance who doesn't remember what he said is him and you're left in charge of clean up in the wake of Hurricane Husband.
If you and your spouse haven't yet shared a romantic evening of public intoxication, you'd better practice before the company party so you know what to expect. Over several days, do a little private research, a taste testing... and keep good documentation:
First up: "Mimosas"
Result: Subject refused to drink. Just looked at me and said: "If you want to know if I'm gay, why don't you just ask?"
Result: After three, subject propositioned me. End of testing for the evening.
"Mixing shots and Beer"
Result: Subject asked if my ass had always been that big. Most distressing part of result: He had opened the front door and was standing on the porch yelling the question to the neighbors.
I'm not saying to go unescorted to your company party, just that it's lucky most of you won't be drinking: (Banana Daiquiri with a Clomid chaser is probably a terrible idea) Because you have to be both the designated driver and the designated observer.
You don't have to stand there and count your husband's drinks. Just keep your ears and eyes open. The second you see him put his arm around your boss and hear him say: "I know I'm fine. My boys are great swimmers. Mostly they like the breast stroke. Oooh do they love the breast stroke..." you'll know how many he's had... A few too many. Time to find your tickets to the coat check.
Don't delay...Don't wait to see what other surprises he may have up his sleeve or you'll find yourself cleaning up that hurricane on Monday morning. Next thing you know, you'll suddenly feel the death of a dear dear relative coming on and decide a leave of absence is in order. All because your husband has mastered the art of chugging Long Island Ice Teas and talking at the same time.
Listen, I gotta go get a mixed drink. Okay, I don't drink at all. Never have. My idea of a mixed drink is Cherry Coke. Could you imagine what I'd be like if I was out of control and just blurted out whatever came into my head? Oh right. No imagining necessary.
The theme for this month has been: "Get Through the Holidays...Any Way You Can". Take a look at a new article up there in the Health Experts. It's by Psychologist Andrea Braverman. http://laughingisconceivable.com/?page_id=642