Pissing into the Wind

[I'm playing somewhere else today. Read this terrific post and at the bottom find where I am.]

Here's a Link

I was originally going to call this post pissing up a rope, but Mr. Q said he had never heard of the term. Maybe it's not a flat-lander phrase; there's lots of things, apparently, that we each missed out on, what with me having been raised [as all should] in the mountains, and he in the prairies.

But I digress. Neither one of these terms - pissing into the wind nor pissing up a rope - completely describes what I'm going for, but it's the closest thing to the fact that for the past year I have been chronically and unsuccessfully pissing on a stick. [see link above for an example of the stick in question] [And, normally, I would not choose the term "pissing" but use it only for consistency in what is, really, a bad analogy to begin with. But you'll forgive me]

It has now been one year since I took my last little pink oral contraceptive pill and absolutely nothing profound has come of it. But, that's not the problem. Within the past 12 months, my skin has reverted back to it's old, bad self, my presumed pill-weight hasn't gone away, I am [apparently] a teeny wee bit moodier and I have only had 2 partial and guilt-ridden alcoholic beverages. Generally, it sucks.

I'm not upset about the not being pregnant part [okay, only sometimes. just a little during my apparent "moody" phases] since it takes a lot of people a lot longer. Really and truly, I am okay with that. There are those people for whom it doesn't take as long [and I may, occasionally, experience the irrational urge to slap them]. I am upset, though, that I haven't had a beer. The few times that I can, I am almost always on call for work [like this weekend] and, being the lush low-tolerance type that I am, can't freely imbibe. For that alone, I will accept sympathy.

But, I now must come to terms with visiting my doctor in the fall. She heaved a big "finally" last year when I indicated that yes, I was going off the pill with the intent to become pregnant. Now, we'll see what she says when I go in this year, not pregnant. I'm honestly not sure if she's the type who will send me/us for tests right away or have us wait a little longer.

I've decided that tests are all very well and good, but as long as nothing is putting me in harm or does not involve an extremely easy, quick fix, then it ends with the testing. I don't think I'm into any serious fertility stuff. I say that now. We'll see.

Any tests that she orders would at least [hopefully] mean that there would be a conclusion of some sort. And then, at least, we'd know. And then, at least, I could have a beer.

Jenn is posting here today as part of the Blog Exchange. This is one of her favourite posts, originally written August 1, 2005. By the end of September of that year, she was pregnant and the rest is now all history. Read about it, and check out Allison's favourite post, at Quarter Rest.