Monthly Archives: May 2011



I knew it was probably too good to be true. I naively thought that maybe – just maybe – having babies was all it would take to get my cycles back on track. And I got almost a year of perfect 30-day cycles.  I thought I was in the clear.  I got cocky.  And that’s when my body decided to give me the big old one finger salute.

It’s cd17 and I have not even a single sign of ovulation. Instead, I have signs all over the place of PCOS. I’ve gained weight recently, though my diet has stayed pretty much the same. The OPKs I take have the darker, though not positive, second line, indicating elevated LH. And my hair is starting to look thin again.

All of this points to one thing – PCOS. It’s back. I feel panicky, like I missed my only chance to try for #3, assuming I even wanted a third. To be honest, it was just so nice to be normal for a while. It was nice to know my body was getting ready to release an egg and to make a conscious decision not to do anything about it. I had control of my body – finally!  But it turns out I have control of nothing.  My asshole body does whatever the fuck it wants to do.  And that, for the majority of my life, has been nothing.  I guess my body tried it’s hand at working but found that it prefers a life of leisure.  Well, don’t we all.




You know how we’re supposed to leave the past in the past?  Well, social networking sites have made that a complete impossibility for me.  Two glasses of wine can bring on bouts of uncontrollable nostalgia and that little search bar at the top of my facebook page becomes far too tempting to resist.  I try, I really do.  But there it is.  And hour could pass, maybe two, but I’m too mired in the goings-on of exes and their families to notice.  When I start to feel my eyes burning, I look up and realize how long I’ve been sitting there.  And how much I’ve uncovered.  None of it is any of my business and there’s no reason in the world I should even care to know it.

Of my several exes from before I met S, there is only one who is not on facebook.  It happens to be the only one who I might actually like to reconnect with, though that fact makes me think it’s probably really good that he’s not on there.  But does that deter me from trying to find out any information I can about what’s going on with him?  Uh…no, of course not.

His whole family is on facebook and he has one niece whose page is not private.  During one of my nostalgia-driven stalk fests the other night, I came across her page and noticed some pictures.  He was in them and so was his daughter.  She is pregnant.

My ex is going to be a grandfather.

A GRANDFATHER.  Like as in grandpa or pop-pop or paw-paw.  As in that old guy I remember from my childhood whose ear hair I would pull on (gross?!) and who played softball with the other men in his retirement community.  The gray-haired man who gave great hugs and drove a Buick.

And the worst part is, he looked like he could be a grandpa.  He didn’t look ancient, but he definitely looked older.  He is older, but I guess I just wasn’t expecting him to look it.  When we met, he was 36 and I was 20.  I was cute then.  And THIN.  All this time, I worried about what he would think if he saw me now.  If he’d think I’d gotten fat or if he’d think I looked very old for my age.  But that goes both ways, doesn’t it?  The clock didn’t stop for him either.

I am older and so is he.  Looking at those pictures made me sad because they messed with my memories.  He hadn’t aged for me because I hadn’t seen him since he was 40.  So he would always look 40 when I thought about him.  And I know what you’re probably thinking – 40 isn’t exactly young.  No, it’s not, but he was one hot 40-year old.  Not even kidding, he was seriously smokin’.  But now?

Now he’s a grandpa.  Or he will be one soon.  But you know what?  It really doesn’t make much of a difference to me.  I still stared at his picture like the love sick 20-year old I used to be.  I looked at it so many times I worried his niece would get a notification about a possible stalker.

I wonder why I can’t forget him.  I wonder why I can’t resist that search bar.  I wonder why he doesn’t have a facebook or if he’ll start one eventually.  I wonder what he’s like with his family, if he’s a good father, if he’s a better husband than he used to be.  I wonder if we would have made it.  I know the answer to that last one – no.  I’m not even sure that we would have made it through alive.

I don’t know how to end this post.  My mind is wandering.

I think I need to stay off facebook for a while.