I know I am not pregnant. I know without a shadow of a doubt. There’s no way. We didn’t have sex at the right times and I know that. But it’s that time of the month where I start to question every little twinge. I was a little nauseated yesterday and then again this morning. So I think, “Maybe?” Both times, it was after I ate something sweet. and that happens to me ANYtime. But that damn Wanttobepregnant Amnesia kicks in and I forget all about that. Today, my boobs are a little sore. Once again, this happens to me about a week before my period starts..just like it does every other month. I was feeling a little crampy this morning, so I think, “Could this be implantation?” But, no, lol. That also happens every month before my period starts. Stupid womb, aren’t you tired of being empty?
And I’m totally not buying a pregnancy test at any point this month, even if I’m late for some reason. I’ve cured myself of that addiction. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be actually in the process of squeezing a kid out of my lady business before I feel confident enough to do that again. And I will never be cutesy and show it to Arnie. Especially since he was so grossed out the last time, lol. “Did you pee on that? And you’re showing it to me? I never pee on things and shove them in your face.” I’m going to remind him of that next time he wants a blowjob, by the way.
Even though I know I will not be pregnant, I’m not depressed. I’m just pissed off about having to wait so many weeks until I can even try again.
I’m thinking about telling one of my sisters about this blog. She recently moved away to Missouri and this would be a nice way for us to keep in touch. I’d have to swear her to secrecy, though. I like that I can say anything I want without having to worry about what people I know think. I have another sister but I’m not ever going to tell her about it. I love her just as much as the other one but I think she’d try to analyze everything I say. And she’d tell people. She’d tell myDad…and ugh. I don’t even want to think about him reading how raunchy I am. I don’t want him to know that I have sex either. Can you imagine the horror? Brandie wouldn’t tell anyone, I know that. She wouldn’t try to analyze me either. She’d just read what I had to say and not try to fix it. She would just understand. Plus, I like to talk shit about the other sister and she’d be pissed at me, lol.
I really miss my sister. She’s three and a half years older than me and we’re very close. Growing up, she was close enough in age that we had a lot of common interests but far enough apart that we weren’t up each others butt all the time. The only serious fight we had was when I would get home from school before her. I was supposed to watch Santa Barbara, so I could tell her what had happened that day. I’d watch the first half and then switch over to He-Man. It’d piss her off cause I could never finish telling her what happened with Cruise and Eden.
Once, when I was about five or six, she did something for me that I will never forget. I had a treasured Pound Puppy stuffed dog. He was gray and his name was Smoky and I loved him. Man, did I love him. One of our dogs got a hold of him and completely dismembered poor, darling Smoky beyond repair. She helped me lay him to rest in a perfect place in the back yard. We even had a funeral, with a headstone and everything. The same bastard dug dug up Smoky and chewed him to pieces even more. She helped me bury the bits of stuffing and gray polyester that used to be Smoky atleast three more times and never once tried to just throw him away. A sister who will traipse around an acre or two of back yard, picking up pieces of a stuffed animal is a keeper, I think.
She also agrees with my Snowfall Guidelines. Once snow has fallen, you’re never allowed to walk in the front yard and mess it up with footprints. The front yard is for looking and the backyard is for playing and snowman-making. There was nothing worse than seeing a front yard with big tracks from where you tried to roll a snowman. Not many people understand this but she does. Especially since we grew up in Arkansas. Snow is so rare here and we wanted the pretty, pretty snow to last as long as possible. Now that she lives in the frozen tundra of northern Missouri, she might have changed her philosophy.
She also played Bartender with me. We’d sit on opposite sits of the kitchen bar and she’d serve me shot-glasses full of water, dyed with food coloring. I just now realized what that probably did to my innards. Thanks, Brandie. Good idea. My kidneys are probably permanently stained Green No. 3. Explain that to the coroner when I die, please. Oh, also..thanks for nurturing my love of alcohol at such a young age. I think other kids might have played hopscotch or something, though. Talk about boring. I bet no one else could slide a full glass down a bar with as much accuracy as we could. Hey, I want that accomplishment etched on my tombstone, if you’re keeping notes.
Damn. Now that I wrote all this sappy stuff, I have to tell her about it. So, welcome Brandie. I love you and I miss you and not a word to anyone about this. I know many things about you. And what I don’t know, I’ll make up.
