Devil in a Blue Dress, and by blue dress, I mean blue DYE. Blue Dye is the DEVIL.

So...I suppose I should start off by apologizing for my absence the last couple of weeks. I vowed to get at least one post a week so that I could make all of you dumber at a more consistent rate, but I have already failed at my only commitment to this blog.  You don't deserve to have two whole weeks go by....left to deal with the realities of how terrible this world is without a little break in the day to just laugh at someone else. 


But no worries, I have the best worst tales in ALL  the lands for your amusement. No.....Not really, but I will fill you in on my retardedness for a hot minute so you know what has been consuming every waking moment of my life.  It is truly a disgrace.

OK- so of course after I get my positives on the OPK strips...I'm all, "WELL LET'S START TO ANALYZE EVERY TWITCH AND TWINGE AND YES YES YES I'M SURE IT'S A PREGNANCY SYMPTOM"....ok, not quite, but I did manage to keep a most impressive journal of all these teeny tiny little "symptoms".  I actually felt pretty calm about each day as we approached the witching hour...the final hours that would prove whether or not I was acting completely psychotic or whether I really was "in tune with my body".........guess which one I was?

You already knew that though, but apparently I didn't.  I really really thought this was it.  Regardless of how slim my chances were, regardless of how "apparent" certain symptoms were.  I was wrong.  But instead of just waiting until my Monthly Hag either showed up or not...I started peeing on sticks 5 days ago.  Why....because I like them.  I'm addicted.  I can't wait, I just want to know NOW.  

And here's the best part.  I have two different kinds.....pink colored ones and blue colored ones.  Now, mind you, I SCOUR the interwebs on a daily basis trying to relate with other psychos about symptoms and tactics and whatever other hoo haa seems to fit the bill that we are all preggers.  Somehow I failed to read the MANY websites that mention that the blue dye tests are incredibly unreliable.  Like...I'm not even sure how stores are allowed to sell them they are THAT. BAD.

But low and behold....I buy a cheapie 2 pack yesterday and pee on one.  And wouldn't you fucking know it.....a little while later it came up positivie......so faintly positive that you kind of had to tilt the stick sideways and squint...but it was there.  But.....I didn't feel different.  I didn't feel sad, or happy, or sick, or excited. Nothing.  I call a dear friend who has managed to be sperminated twice, so OBVIOUSLY she knows her shit.  The first thing out of her mouth is,.....

"What color is the dye"
Me:."Blue"
Awesome Friend:."Oh........I just don't trust the blue ones"

....FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.  What?  Why would the blue dye lie to me? Why would they do something so cruel. I mean...I honestly didn't think I was actually preggers, luckily, although I have no idea what prego symptoms fee like, I know my gut, and it was saying YOU ARE WRONG BITCH....GO GET DRUNK.

So here I am.....with a positive pee stick in my hand, and a diary of symptoms that would make me look like a hypochondriac and I'm wrong.  I hold my pee for the rest of the day and get home to piss on another stick, this time, a trusty pink one...AAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDD



BFN



I deflate.  I am instantly depressed.  And logically, what do I do?  I start crying.  I can't help it.  I just wanted to believe all my craziness and that maybe I WASN'T crazy after all.  But I am. 
Bayou asks...and I am brutally honest with him.  I just feel awful.  Lots of hugs and sympathy, and I honestly feel like he knows how much I want this.  I mean, I know he knows because I told him, but I try to keep a brave face most of the time and not just cry every time I feel like it, even though I'm pretty sure I'm way more of a basket case than maybe most people think.  I run my mouth a lot, and that is probably the best way to dodge coming to terms with reality. 

Reality sucks. Yesterday sucked.  These last two weeks sucked.  I couldn't enjoy myself because every day seemed like a new symptom began and I couldn't truly involve myself in fun activities when all I'm thinking is whether or not I'm knocked up.

But today is a new day.  That Hag came just after midnight to welcome this glorious new day and I am going to let her crash in my uterus this time....but I swear to Jebus.....her time is coming to a close.  I don't like people mooching off of me, and that Hag is one of them.  She is not welcome anymore, at least not for 9 months, and I need her to start reading the memo's on her TPS reports that say it's time to pack her shit and leave for a while.  I need a new roommate....one that will both ruin and bring joy to my life forever and ever and hopefully not bleed on a monthly basis.

I am going to continue to monitor with my OPK's and do all the stuff I can do....and then it's out of my hands.  I would like to be just as surprised as Bayou would be when I tell him the news....instead of trying to know ahead of time like a g.d. mind reader.  I like surprises...this would be a good surprise. 

And instead of consuming every waking moment with garbage sights where people speculate on each others symptoms....I need to start focusing on myself more, and Bayou, and our fur babies, and work I guess....and for the love of God I need to clean the house, and call my parents.....and stop being a psycho.....

Padded walls and Pee Sticks,
TBag. Out.