Do you want to read super-personal things about me? I thought so.
Yesterday, I had to run out of the library so I could throw up on the lawn multiple times.
My boobs are so big I had to buy a new bra. Speaking of boobs, my nipples are so sensitive that it hurts when my shirt brushes against them.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
The problem with admitting I'm trying to have a baby is that I assume everything means I pregnant. The anxiety every month sucks. I can't even take a pregnancy test because it's too early.
On the plus side, Chuk saw his doctor last week and he took him off the medication that likely reduced his sperm count (it reduces it to zero for 90% of men who take it) and the doctor has ordered sperm count tests for now and a month from now. The doctor is hopeful the count could be back to normal levels within three months. At least we're on the right track.
So there's every personal thing you ever (didn't) want to know about me. Did it make you want to barf? Well, at least you didn't do it in front of the library. Talk about embarrassing!
I'm lusting after the rocker above. It is totally going in my imaginary baby's room.