McFatty Monday!

Happy Monday!

Firstly, Blair looks fantastic. I'm super impressed. I would show my own pictures, but I haven't really taken any good ones. You'll have to refer to my post about sin to see how far I've come. Since I'm dressed like a nun you can't really tell, but trust me, I look better than I did when I started. I added a ticker to my page that counts down to our family Disney trip (which was a request of my brother, who I will post about next week). I'm hoping to be bikini - ready for that trip. Or knocked up, but that goes without saying (I hope).


I've been walking with my work friend Sarah at lunch. While it doesn't change the fact that I still hate my job, it really helps me get rid of the homicidal feelings I have by the middle of the day. Our campus is actually very pretty and we're really surprised by how relaxed we feel by the time we're done. Also, it's an easy way of getting in a workout. I've been trying to walk Harry when I get home too. All in all, I'm just chugging along here.


Does anyone have low cal crock pot recipes that they've tried and liked? I think I might break out the crockpot this week. Please pray for Mr. Joe :-)


Hope everyone has a marvelous week!

Does this template make my blog look fat?

I got an email from blogger and they were like all "change up your blog" and I was all "I'm working and hate my job so of course I'll waste time on my blog today!" Does the white background look like bubbles to you? I want some kind of bubble in my design. I am the SOAPscum avenger, after all. I don't know if I'll keep it this way or not. I'll have plenty of time to change it tonight since I gave away my shift at the movies to my friend Nicole and Mr. Joe has already made plans. I know you're jealous of me, sitting alone in my house playing with my blog lay out on a Friday night.

I am super cool.

Greed is sinful!

Look at this awful story about two sisters and how greed has ruined their relationship . . . it's such a shame that they would let 500 MILLION dollars get between them! Really? You can't split those millions up? What's one less million after about 100 million? Sinful.

Also sinful?

Not doing your laundry and dressing like a nun as a result:

I'm a rebel

No McFatty Monday today. Not because I gained or anything, there just hasn't been a change this week and I haven't really been focusing on weight loss. I'm still stalking the McFatties that I normally comment on though. At least SOMEONE can focus on weight loss.
Remember the "wet" burrito though? At least I didn't gain. Thank God for small favors.

Instead!!! I will tell you about my weekend!!!

Friday night I worked at the movies until 11 and then drove to the Super Walmart to stand in line for New Moon. Don't judge me.

Saturday, we went to a wedding. The priest talked about finding everyday things erotic. Those were his exact words. It made us all a little . . .uncomfortable. I tried really hard not to cry, but since my brother became ill, I have a really hard time in church. It's as though all of my thoughts turn to Mike. Then I have to try really hard not to cry and I end up looking like a GLASS CASE OF EMOTION ala Anchorman. Awesome.

I debated with myself about drinking. Could I be knocked up? Did we have sex in time? I CAN'T REMEMBER!!! I didn't really want to jeopardize it if I am KU, so I just sipped champagne for the toast. I probably wouldn't have drank anyway, since I drove, so it wasn't that big of a deal. The food was delicious, the cake was AMAZING. Mint chocolate chip cake. Ingenious!

I locked my keys in my car and had to call AAA to open my door. Mr. Joe was not pleased.

Sunday, we went to Marshall's to pick up Mr. Joe's check. We ate at D'Angelo's. I felt barfy, and immediately thought it was because we must have made a baby. Then the nausea went away and I told myself I was overreacting.

Today, I am at work and one of the girls that had a nervous breakdown has let slip that she is pregnant. Her baby daddy already has a daughter, who he owes ALOT of child support on. We are all sad that she is with this loser again. We hope that he ends up leaving her because she would be much better off without him. I know it sounds awful, but it's the truth. It's also why I am not green with envy right now.

That's all I have for today. I know it was super exciting stuff. You're welcome!

Stop the presses.

Look!

That link is my chart on Fertility Frenemy. Note the crosshairs. Does this mean I actually ovulated? I am still a little shocked. I was all prepared to write a post about how I went out with my sister in law to a Mexican restaurant and ordered a "Wet Burrito" (trust me it looked good on paper). I guess I am still posting about it right now. Here's a picture of my beefy, wet burrito (I wonder what google searches will turn up from this post):

And Just to get a true feel for the sheer volume of beefy, wet burritoness, here is one with my SIL:

I apologize if it's tiny. I am not a profesh blogger by any means. Despite the strange name, the burrito was delicious. I'm still a little concerned about where the "wet" part comes in though. The rest of it is sitting in my locker at work for lunch. There was no way I could finish all of that thing in one sitting! We needed to leave room for desert:

Please remind me, when I piss and moan on Monday about how I gained 10 pounds, that I ate FRIED ICE CREAM that was on FIRE on Thursday. Thank you.

And since I am all about the pictures today, here is a look at the "national holiday" that is March Madness in the Joe residence:

My house smells like college dorm today because Mr. Joe and is band of goons wanted to play upstairs in my nice house instead of downstairs in the man cave yesterday. There was a problem though, because the biggest of our two televisions is in the man cave (downstairs). What to do? Mr. Joe decided that he would put our very large, expensive piece of electric entertainment OUTSIDE ON OUR PATIO TABLE. There are few things in this world that we own that are of any worth, friends. One of the those things is this TV. Another is our reputation as normal, middle class citizens. I'm pretty sure the latter is damaged beyond repair in our neighborhood now. Sigh. The umbrella really accentuates the trashiness, don't you think?

Anyway . . . I ovulated. Sadly, I can't remember what exact day Mr. Joe and I got it on. We are very busy people, but I'm fairly certain it was this past weekend. So there's a goodish chance we had some sort of timing right? Maybe the cramping in my uterus is a baby Joe.

Or I will actually discover why they call it a "wet" burrito. Pray for me on both accounts, please.

Happy Friday!!

Mrs. Joe's List of Irrational Surgery Fears:

1) I will die. Not because of the tiny incision in my stomach, mind you. I'm sure that I will for some reason, just drop dead at 27 years old right on the table.

2) I will wake up in the middle of the surgery and be completely paralyzed. I will hear and feel everything, yet not be able to tell anyone about it. To make matters worse, Dr. Foreign Accent will be commenting on how flabby I am.

3) They will accidentally amputate one of my arms or legs. I'm hoping if this is the case, that it's my left one. Or if they're going to amputate something, that they take my second toes, because they make my feet ugly:

4) They will discover the REAL reason I'm infertile: I have testicles and I'm actually a man. Mr. Joe will be SO PISSED.

Did I mention that I'm having this done at a teaching hospital??? EEEEEk!

I know I am not the only one to have this done, but I am so paranoid that I CANNOT STOP driving Mr. Joe crazy with worry. I thought if I wrote out my fears it would make me feel better, but I keep coming up with newer ones. I'm going to stop while I'm ahead :-)

McFatty Monday

Happy Monday! (and if it really is a happy Monday for you, feel free to bypass this post because I am whiny and grumpy and complainy)

No real changes in my weight to report, so yay. I ate horribly last week because I'm stressed out. I started taking the birth control, even though I really don't want to. It seems counterproductive to my cause. So, I'm frustrated. Also: I HATE MY JOB. I really don't want to be a phone slave anymore. I hate this job more and more each day. I am a talented, intelligent individual. I have a BS degree in executive business management, which I earned on my own, while working full time and busting my ass, yet the most I do all day is tell people what their piddly 403b account balances are and argue about why they can't take their money out (here's a hint, because it's meant for retirement you turd!). TWO PEOPLE have had nervous breakdowns. Actual, legitimate nervous breakdowns. This is also a source of frustration. Do you ever feel like you are supposed to be doing something more with your life? I'm not sure exactly what is it I was created to do, but it sure as shit isn't this.

I hate my attitude lately. I wish I could stop feeling like I'm entitled to have a baby and an awesome job. I wish I could stop focusing on what I don't have. It's been very difficult for me to not be envious of other people. What's funny is that I recognize how I'm acting and feeling, but I can't change it. No matter how much I hate feeling that way, I can't stop myself from feeling like I should be more successful, thinner, fertile, happier - you name it. I want to be happy with what I have. I want to enjoy this time in my life - and for the most part, I do. I love my husband (when I get to see him). SEE WHAT I DID RIGHT THERE? MUST. STOP. COMPLAINING.
Any advice to not feeling so crappy? Anyone looking to hire a snarky, smart lady to do anything other than pick up the phone?

Everyone go congratulate Blair on her fantastic job so far! She's feeling so confident that she's thinking of rocking a bikini this summer. The rest of you also look awesome and are waaaaaaay more positive than me today. I think it goes without saying that I am totally jelly of you. And I hate it.

The same page - and the one with a bible quote

Mr. Joe and I had a long talk last night and we are finally on the same page. These talks tend to happen when we're on the drive home from his mother's house. The majority of his family lives about an hour away, and since Mr. Joe has no where to go we're together, we usually end up discussing important matters. Or arguing about whether he pronounces certain words correctly. One time, we fought the entire way about whether on not the phrase "play it by ear" was really "play it by year". His example for arguing the latter was:
Mrs. Joe: "Mr. Joe, can we go to Disney World for the millionth time this summer?"
Mr. Joe: " I don't know, let's play it by year."
I know that makes no sense, hence the argument. But I digress.

The discussion started when we heard a commercial for a urologist on the radio (I wish I could find it online and play it for you here, it was probably the dumbest advertisement I have ever heard in my entire life. It involved a crazy urologist giving vasectomies to a basketball player and a cheerleader during a basketball game, and the cheerleader ends up being a transvestite - hence the vasectomy - and it's "so quick and painless" that the basketball player didn't notice it. Really, really dumb). Mr. Joe was wondering how a guy finds his way into that area of medicine because he "couldn't imagine staring at wieners all day". Yes, he actually said 'wieners'. We are so mature. While we were both laughing about this weirdo urologist guy, I quietly slipped in that Dr. Foreign Accent wants him to see one. <>

He was pretty somber when he said, "ABSOLUTELY NOT".

It's not that he isn't supportive, or as anxious to have children, in fact as soon as the words left his lips, he was apologizing for sounding so caustic. He's just not as willing as I am to have people all up in his business. I completely understand that. We did an SA once, and that's as far as he is willing to go at this point in the game. We already confirmed that the only thing off on his SA was the motility, and even then it wasn't that low. The problem is definitely me at this point. From this, we have decided upon a TTC Action Plan:

Step one - I will have the hysteroscopy and hopefully live through it (I will have to post all of the various disaster scenarios that I have come up with in my head)
Step two - Find a way to regulate my cycles with medication so we can pinpoint when I ovulate
Step three - do the deed at those times

If after several cycles of this not succeeding, we will reevaluate where we are and if we are ready to try a more invasive route. It doesn't look like much, but it feels really good to have a set plan in place for the next couple of months. I think we both felt like TTC was getting away from us, like a crazy runaway train. I think we're more in control of the train now and I can already feel less tension between us.

Basically, what this boils down to for us is patience and faith. I have faith that we will have children. We all know the bible verses that promise us prosperity and purpose (specifically, Jeremiah 29:11 where those same words are basically used). I believe that. The patience part is not really as easy to come by. This is just going to be a really hard lesson in patience I think. I know at the end, all of this indecision and uncertainty is going to make it all worth it, but I really, really, really want to get to the "worth it" part already! How do you wait for something to happen when you don't know when (or how, but I'm not focusing on that) it's happening?

Way back in the beginning of my obsession with babies and blogging, I found a blog of a waiting adoptive mom (who has since had a successful open adoption with her son AND birthed a "surprise" baby boy). The majority of blogs I found had all of the "standard" waiting mother bible verses and other various quotes, but this woman had a verse I had never heard before:

Habakkuk 2:3
"But these things I plan won't happen right away. Slowly, steadily, surely, the time approaches when the vision will be fulfilled. If it seems slow, do not despair, for these things will surely come to pass. Just be patient! They will not be overdue a single day!"

My first thought was, "What the heck is a Habakkuk?" I still need to google that one. Now, I read this passage everyday. I repeat it to myself as I listen to the trolls who call in and complain to me at work. I know it by heart. It was no accident that I stumbled upon these words and the blogs that I read. All of this is comforting to me because I know that eventually, the patience I'm supposed to learn will come.

I just wish it would come right now.

McFatty Monday!

Quick post, just because I want to be consistent: AF took her extra baggage with her and I'm back to my all time low weight of 148. Hooray!



On a serious note: if you don't read her, or haven't read her post today, please read Blair's PPD post and leave her some encouragement. I am in awe of her raw honesty. If I'm being honest, I thought PPD was just "the baby blues" up until I read this today. Who's the celebrity spokesperson for PPD? Is it Brooke Shields? I know there's someone - but I have never taken it as seriously as I did after reading Blair's post. I hope her writing reaches those that really need it!

Oh hey, it's me again . . .

I need to get this out so I can fall asleep tonight. This is going to be all over the place:
I am terrified of having surgery. I have never had any kind of surgery before, not even for my wisdom teeth (but that is coming soon after) and I am SUPER NERVOUS. I can only imagine the awkward joking that will take place the day of. What I am most freaked out about is that something will go wrong and I will be permanently, irreversibly infertile. What if that is the reason that I have found my way to all of the adoption blogs I read? Will this be God's way of showing me that I am not meant to get pregnant? I don't know what I would do if I couldn't have a baby "the old fashioned way". I don't think I have the patience or the sanity left to try another way. Of course, I could be overreacting and everything will be fine.
Say that everything IS fine. Dr. Foreign Accent thinks that after the hysteroscopy on the 1st, the next thing to do is an IUI. Why can't we try with clomid first? I'm pretty sure that Mr. Joe is not too keen on providing another sample. I confirmed with the RE that the only thing "off" about the SA we had done was the motility. Nothing else, and even that was just a little low. It was definitely not as bad as Dr. H made it out to be. I feel like if I was to tell Dr. Foreign Accent that we wanted to try Clomid first, that he would question how badly we want this. TRUST ME FRIENDS: WE WANT THIS. I want to be on the same page with Mr. Joe, and I know that he really doesn't want to give a "sample" at their office. He's pretty much the exact opposite of me, really shy and quiet and not comfortable having to do things like that. Not that I'm pleased as punch to get in the stirrups, but it's easier for me to do it than it is for him. I worry that if we were to share that with the RE, that they wouldn't take us seriously. I hate feeling like that. I hate watching Mr. Joe's degenerate cousins have babies without having to consult anyone, and then feeling like I have to be granted permission to have a child because it won't happen "by mistake". I think this may also be why I am worried about having to have a family through adoption. Talk about granting permission. You ACTUALLY have to be granted permission, and pay lots of money, and be picked by someone. I know how that game goes. I took gym class. I was always picked last.
AND NOW A CONFESSION: I am still hoping that things will happen "naturally" and I think I am going to hold off on the bcp for a week or so. Maybe I will O on day 14. Today is day 11 and I think I might try for it still, since the heart shape isn't as severe as they thought (I know there is an actual medical term for what I have, but I can't think of it right now). It can't hurt right? I just want one chance. JUST ONE.
I'm sorry for this post. If you've read this far thanks for listening. I feel a little better now and I think I can sleep.

The HSG

This weekend was pretty exciting. It started off Friday afternoon with my HSG. Thank you for all of your reassurances that it wasn't going to be horrible. I went into it with confidence, thinking that it was going to be no big deal. Of course, like before, I had a stand up routine of one liners before they actually laid me down to start the procedure. At least this time, there were only two people in the room. I guess my previous audience didn't want to expose themselves to all of that radiation.
Anyway, I was all calm and collected until Dr. Foreign Accent STUCK A NEEDLE in my cervix. Personally, I could have done without this. Especially because I still felt when the dye went in and I could the cramping as my ute was filled with fluid. What is the purpose of the Novocaine? I'm sure the catheter couldn't have hurt more than the effing needle. For the rest of the day, whenever I thought back on the HSG, my crotch stung with the painful memories. The radiology tech was super nice though, and laughed at my comedy routine, which was nice because Dr. Foreign Accent does not find me funny at all. I don't take it personally though - I'm pretty sure he has the personality of a wet mop.
Turns out, the ultrasound picture of my ute was way worse than the HSG picture showed, and I only have a slightly heart shaped uterus (or heart shaped box, as my best friend R puts it). We decided to do the surgery, and so that is scheduled for April 1st. In the meantime, I will be put on bc pills so I don't get my period before the surgery. I'm a little disappointed in this. I was hoping that the HSG would awaken my lady parts and we would conceive this month on our own. Oh well. I gotta run, Mr. Joe needs my help with the kitchen. We're almost done and then I will have a big reveal. I know how you are all DYING to see it LOL.

Calling all infertiles . . .

So today was super exciting.

For those of you just joining us, when we last left off, our heroine (not the bad kind kids) was on her way to an appointment with an RE to determine why she was not knocked up. Unbeknownst to her, the evil Dr. H had sent her to a teaching hospital type place to have this done . . .

First of all, it took me 5 - 10 minutes to find the place, and it wasn't until I was lost that I realized that I had NO IDEA what the name of my doctor was. I was forced to ask people for directions to the fertility center, which was super awkward for me. Lesson learned friends: WRITE DOWN THE NAME OF YOUR DOCTOR or you will be forced to share your business with even MORE strangers.

When I finally found the place and made it back the exam room, I was just about ready to puke from all the nerves. I was sweatier than a whore in church. The nurse noticed this and tried her best to be nice and make me feel better, and by the end of our brief conversation, I did feel a little better. The throwups had left, and I was a little less sweaty. I was maybe even a little excited to see my ute and finally get this show on the road. As I sat with the sheet around my waist (they're so fancy there! No paper crap for me to rip while attempting to put it on!), waiting for my new nurse friend to return with the doctor, I almost laughed at myself for being so nervous. Oh, was I fooled friends!

That nurse was a tricky bitch. I had been lulled into a false sense of security. Not because I was waiting for a long time, mind you. She came right back with the doctor as promised. She also brought about 4 friends. FOUR. PLUS the doctor. All of them waiting for my lady parts to put on a show. EEEEEK!!! I did what I do when I get into any awkward situation:

I brought the jokes. AND I COULD. NOT. STOP.

"It's a full house tonight! It's like we're in a telephone booth! Can everyone see my uterus? Who's going next??" All the while in my head, I'm screaming at myself to STOP WITH THE JOKES. I sound like Kathy Griffin! ENOUGH ALREADY!

The jokes stopped when Dr. Foreign Accent started pointing to my lady parts on the screen. Apparently, they were putting on enough of a show that I didn't have to continue with my one -liners to captivate the audience. After alot of pointing and moving the wand around, Dr. Foreign Accent finally turned to me and said, "Has anyone ever mentioned to you that you have a heart shape for a uterus?"

Now, when the hell would my doctor had the time to do that? I'm sure there was no time for her to share this with me over the hundreds many times that I went to see her.

Bottom line is this: He thinks I have PCOS (which is what I have suspected for a little while now) and that I may have a heart shaped uterus. There is a more medical term for this, but I don't remember it and "heart shaped" just sounds so . . .pretty. He also thinks that Mr. Joe and I will not get knocked up on our own, and that we should start right with IUI. First, I have to have an HSG to confirm that I am indeed, deformed. I have the Quasimodo of uteruses (uteri?). I am going for this on Friday. So any infertiles out there that have had this done: should I be worried about the HSG? Is it painful? I have been doing lots of googling, but I would really like to hear from anyone who has actually done this.

I have decided I am not going to worry about the IUI stuff or any infertility crap until after this HSG business. I am really nervous and barfy over it because this is totally uncharted territory for me. There is one thing I am CERTAIN of though.

I do NOT have enough jokes to get me through an HSG.

Because I NEED to share my life with the internets:

This came in to the movies the other day and I was using my super sneaky skills to take a picture with my phone because it's proof of the crazy people that I have to deal with at the movie theater:

That man is wearing cat ears and skinny jeans, and he was about 50 years old.

Tomorrow I have my appointment with an RE. I am super barfy over this!! Wish me luck.

McNochange Monday!

Happy Monday everyone!

It's ironic that Blair asked us about plateaus today, because I think that is where I am finding myself lately. The 2 pounds that showed up last week are still here this week. I am hoping that AF just brought 2 pounds of luggage and that she will take them back when she leaves. . . but the truth is this: in order to get down off of this plateau, I have to MOVE MY FAT HAMMY ASS OFF OF IT. I realize that some people get stuck at a certain number even though they are exercising and eating right and all the things you are supposed to do when you're dieting. Sadly, if this is you, I have no advice for you. Really I have no advice for anyone but myself, because telling someone to move their fat hammy ass is just plain mean and I wouldn't talk that way to nice people in the real world. You all seem like nice people, so I'm not talking to you.

I'm talking to myself, which means that I'm crazy. You've probably ascertained this by now.

I'm going to Florida in June and Hilton Head SC in August and I would really like it if I could look somewhat decent in summer clothing when we go on these trips, so I really need to get moving. Both literally and physically. This week, I promise you (well really myself, unless you really care that much) I will do some form of activity at least 3 times! This activity will not include walking from the living room to the kitchen to find something to eat every 15 minutes. My sister and I were supposed to go indoor rock climbing, but she keeps rescheduling, and I don't want to attempt something like that without a friend. I would hate to have the people I care about miss out on an opportunity to laugh at me. My main problem with actually exercising is that I'm a master procrastinator. Remember our fire? I finally bought a smoke detector last week. It's sitting on the counter now. One day we will put it up on the ceiling. That's just how we roll. I'm pretty sure I can work with this small goal though. We will see next Monday. Good luck to everyone this week!