Since my reproductive system is holding a hide-and-seek tournament, the least I can do is spend copious time analyzing questions to which I already know the answers.
J & I {along with his best male Buddies, whom also consider my "Buddies", although one's been kind of an ass, which is a whole backward story I've promised myself I won't delve into as the details of the whole situation devastate me} are off for the inaugural football weekend. He and said buddies are rabid supporters of their college team, which is pretty well ranked and has had some incredible victories. Rabid athletic supporters. Funny one, huh?
J was recounting some of these victories to me, as we were both attending to our morning bathroom duties. He excitedly referred back to fabulous passes, near-miss wins, incredible championship games, and looked at me expectantly. To which I reply with a blank stare, a tight smile, and a shrug. He incredulously asks, "What, you don't remember that?"
I fell asleep during the opening game last season. In my seat, screaming fans all around. I kid you not.
Which pretty much sums up my enthusiasm for the sport. I go to the home games {although I have tapered off in recent years, coming up with all kinds of creative excuses}, enjoy the people watching, the Stairmaster-replicating workout necessary to get to our sky-high seats, and of course, the mini pizzas that are available at the food kiosks inside. Oh yea, and a few drinks at the tailgate usually suffice to put me in a good mood.
Anyway, this weekend is football + ! Oh joy! Football + what, you ask? It's +:
- A five hour drive to the beach on Friday evening
- A weekend with the boys AND two lovely wives, who aside from the circumstances following, I'm sure I could be friends with. (1) Wife A is a newlywed, model-gorgeous, and has one of those exotically interesting name that induces drool and fantasies upon it's very mention. (2) Wife B is very, very nice, and I've enjoyed hanging out with her on many previous occasions. But she's the new mom to Baby A, who will be joining us as well.
- So in reference to Part 1 above, I simply don't want to squeeze my bod into a bathing suit with her in the vicinity. I'm bloated, have random bruises all over my legs, and have been taking my doctor's casual advice of "No exercise for you, young lady, during this IVF cycle" with the utmost seriousness.
- And in reference to Part 2, I simply don't feel like cooing over an infant. I do it enough, and it's tiring. I thoroughly enjoy the cooing part, but the aftershocks of despair and sadness are exhausting. The questions directed to me from the Buddies and the unknowing men, due to the presence of a bebe, will all be innocent and well-intentioned, but unwelcome.
Which all, in it's roundabout way, comes back to the question: Would it kill me to have a drink or two in order to:
- Attempt to get in the spirits {oops, did I say that? I meant "spirit"} of the game?
- Come up with wittier and more memorable responses to the "When are you and J. finally going to catch up with the rest of us and have kids?" questions?
- Enjoy the taste of a real beer {no low-carb, lite stuff for this puppy}, which I really enjoy and have missed for so long?
For purposes of exercise, I have followed the formula that now = our first IVF cycle. But for purposes of this weekend, is okay for me to formulate now = the week immediately preceding our first IVF cycle ?
As per my previous post, I'm not really on any drug protocol right now, just antibiotics. And haven't we all had a drink while taking antibiotics? In fact, I think I remember a doctor telling me to take precautions, as antibiotics render some birth control useless.
Such a problem.
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