Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Well strap my mittens on with Duct tape

I have been wallowing a bit of late in both self pity and self doubt. Had a few days of the standard hormone bullocks, crying about everything, drowning in hoplessness, feeling like the most horrid and ghastly person, you know a real joy to be around.

Monday as luck would have it I awoke to look like I had sprayed myself with candy apple red and it itches like buggery. Very attractive, team that with nausea and what is more worrying a loss of appetite so I suspect someone up there is having a laugh. 'yeah lets make the fat woman itch where she cannot reach'

Apparently it is a pregancy rash but the are checking for something called 'Fatty liver' What a hideous name. Of course I would be bound to have a fatty liver as I have a fatty everything else, oh except my ears they are still in pristine prenatal condition.

CH is of course bored with the whole whingeing about everything, as he should be but I still tend to nail him to the wall over it. For the love of god, rub my back more than twice you bastard.
At the moment he could come home at the end of a day and I could say I had my toes filed off with a cheese grater and the standard answer would be "arhhhhh thats no good, whats for dinner'

Mind you there is no point being lavished in affection at present as I feel quite numb to the whole thing. I feel wound so tight and barely a moment passes that I have not had my brain going at an alarming rate thinking of twenty jobs and scenarios at once I feel like I have a pick a path book in my head. I just cannot relax and even getting a cuddle from CH feels horrible like I cannot afford to slow down and just let myself relax. Weird huh it is like I have tunnel vision or something.

However I did receive the most lovely bunch of flowers yesterday from a rather fabulous good friend, a complete suprise who put so much thought into what the flowers should be and people who know me well would know the signifigance of me receiving a bunch of flowers including Poppies and from a florist called ' The Pink Poppie'. What a lucky girl I am.

I am so not good at being pregnant. Touch all available wood that all will be well as I am not going down this path again.

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