(Start with "Monday" if you can. Mondays are always a road map of sorts for that week's posts. I myself refer to Monday's post constantly during the week. It helps me remember where I had originally intended that week's blog to go before I GPS'd us all into a ditch.) And if you yearn for a little more misdirection in your life, please subscribe to this blog over there to your right, and/or take a short jaunt over to my page at Fertility Authority: http://fertilityauthority.com/blogger/1013368. So, what were we talking about? Oh right. As crazy co-eds around the world finish up their mad-cap Spring Break adventures, we were pondering what a wild rollicking ride it would be if all of us, a giant heap of infertile people, had our own Spring Break.
So let's consider all of the things people do on Spring Break. Okay, so, drinking isn't good for fertility and it's probably a bad idea when you're doing the meds too. And smoking's not good for fertility. And hot tubs aren't good for fertility in men or women.
So, let's just all rent a great house down by the beach and sit in it and... look at each other I guess. We could order pizza. Or watch Mr. Belvedere reruns. Or do each other's hair (my husband would enjoy that) or talk about our boyfriends (my husband would enjoy that) or go skinny-dipping in the lake... hey there may be something in that idea.
I mean, before I ever went through infertility and its ensuing treatments, I probably would have never considered jumping into a body of water with a bunch of other strange naked bodies. (Okay, I probably would have...but play along anyway will ya?) But once you've embarked on the infertility ordeal...I mean, really... who hasn't seen me naked from the waist down?
My fertility clinic (pardon me for calling it "my" fertility clinic. I do so because 1) I feel a sense of kinship to that joint because of all the time I spent there. 2) I feel a sense of ownership to that joint because of all the money I spent there...I should at least have my own wing or plaque or something.) Anyway...
My clinic had many wonderful doctors working there. And they all took a poke at my uterus at one time or another...most more than once...or twice... Then there were nurses. And students. And curious receptionists... and passersby on the way to the podiatry clinic next door... and that busload of tourists from Brazil. (I knew it was okay. I figured anybody who sees Brazilian beach bodies all the time isn't going to give any part of me a second look. Except maybe to whisper among themselves: "Oooh. I don't think that's supposed to look like that" in Portuguese.)
So I'm certainly not ashamed to flaunt my woo-hoo in front of a bunch of infertile strangers. If they went to the same clinic I did, they've probably already seen it at some point...Everyone else there did.
And anyway... My sagging boobs will cover most of what comes beneath.
On that note....
Listen I gotta go. If you want to knock that last visual out of your head...and I could see why you would... (even I'm having a hard time getting my granola bar down at the moment), take a gander at my weekly post over at Fertility Authority. http://fertilityauthority.com/blogger/1013368
I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.