Mrs. Joe's List of Things That Make Her Pathetic

1) I am reading the Twilight series at work for the 7th(ish) time. Please don't think I'm crazy, its just such an easy, mindless read that it helps me pass the time at work. Similar to putting on a movie as background noise.

2) When I came to the part where Bella discovers she's pregnant, I took a moment to determine what cycle day she was on and when she should have ovulated.

3) I think I ovulated on the same cycle day as Bella, but Fertility Frenemy keeps giving me cross hairs and then taking them away the next day.

4) That I was 5 minutes late for work this morning because I stayed in my car to finish singing along to Defying Gravity.

5) The outfit I am wearing came from directly off my bedroom floor this morning. I don't know the last time it was washed. It smells ok.

6) I thought I had developed a new mole on my arm today. It looked a little strange and I was nervous that I maybe developed some melanoma overnight:

. . . then when I touched it, I realized it was chocolate.

7) I admitted all of these reasons to the interwebs.

CD1

You know what happens when AF is missing for 99 days?

You forget to carry the necessary items for dealing with her. While you're at work.

To be honest, when I started spotting yesterday, I thought it was my ute playing tricks on me. I had "spotted" once or twice over the last 99 days or so, but nothing else would be there the next time I took a trip to the bathroom, so I assumed (and what does assuming do kids?) that it would be the same this time as well. Oh my, was I wrong.

It started when I arrived home to an empty house last night. Mr. Joe was working his second job at Marshall's (pronounced Mar- SHALL's as in "SHALL we dance?" Makes it sound fancy), and I was by myself and super hungry. I made a box of Rice-a-Roni and ate it. The whole thing. Immediately feeling horrified with myself for being so gluttonous, I ate some BBQ chips.

I know that makes no sense, I was RAVENOUS and crazy. It made sense in my fat kid head.

After my pig-out, I decided to watch Joannie Rochette's short program skate from the other night. Do you know who I'm talking about? She's the Canadian figure skater whose mother died suddenly on Sunday. I began to sob before she even started to skate. I had to stop this madness! To get out of this funk, I decided against the episode of 16 and Pregnant I had saved and watched Mantracker instead. Mantracker is a sort or game show where this guy, "The Mantracker", hunts down a team of two people each week. The team has to make it a couple of miles through the Canadian wilderness to a finish line in two days. It's a little lame, but Mr. Joe and I like it. In this particular episode, a brother and sister team had to make it through some stupid mountain range or something. I was UGLY CRYING at that point.

Let me catch you up on somethings at this point: My oldest brother passed away on 10/31/2009. He had cancer, and was 46 years old. I haven't really said much about it here because it is still way too raw to discuss. One day I will share more about him, but for now I just need you to know this one thing. . .

We never planned to go backpacking through the woods while some crazy Canadian man (on a horse!) chased after us. NOT ONCE did we ever discuss it. For some reason though, I was BESIDE MYSELF with sadness over the fact that we could never be on Mantracker together. In the middle of my ugly cry, I got a text message from Mr. Joe asking if I was hungry and if I wanted him to stop for food on the way home. I confessed that I didn't need any more food that night since I consumed a whole box of garlic and chicken flavored rice all by my lonesome, and asked if maybe he could bring me home some Diet Coke. I managed to calm myself down enough to look somewhat collected when he came home, but when he was without my diet coke, I started all over again.

You would think after all of that, I would have figured out that I was actually going to bleed. Poor Mr. Joe! He had no idea what the hell happened to me.

The question I have now is - what should I do? The fact that I have finally started my period on my own makes me wonder what the next step should be. Do you think I should chart and see if I O on my own this time? Or should I chart and take clomid (against Dr. H's orders)? Should I still go to my RE appointment on Wednesday? Personally, I think that I should at least have one cycle charted before I go to an RE. Don't they expect that of you anyway? What would you do?
AND ALSO: Is there anyone lurking out there that could maybe follow me so I can have an even 10 followers?

McFatty Monday - In which I sanction Time Travel for this one time:

If there is one thing on Earth that I hate more than anything, it is stories/movies/ideas involving time travel. I ABHOR it. Especially when it happens without people knowing about it - like in Freaky Friday or 13 Going on 30. Time travel is one of the only things that gives me the creeps.

That, and orange cheese - but that's a post for another day.

Anyway, even though I cannot stand traveling through time, If I had the opportunity to hop in a Delorian and rewind to the weekend, I would do it in a heartbeat. The fate of my Monday morning would depend on it!! I would have traveled back, and after arguing with myself for going back on our agreement that we hate time travel and would NEVER EVER do it, I would smack the mini Reece's Peanut Butter cups (all 30 of them) out of my hand and force myself to take Harry for a walk instead. Then I would burn down the Taco Bell by the movie theater, so that I would not go there for my lunch break on Sunday. These actions would have saved me from the 2lb gain I experienced OVERNIGHT.

Would it be a little sick to say I think I can see the two pounds? My rolls look . . . rollier.

And since I would already be on a roll (no pun intended) with all the going back in time business, I would hop back in the Delorian and go back to about 2005, when the dumbass doctor I was seeing suggested that I go on seasonale (now seasonique) because it would "make my periods more manageable". I would punch him in the face, and tell past Mrs. Joe (who would be as equally pissed as the first past Mrs. Joe for time traveling, because this hatred runs deep people) that by "more manageable" the doctor really means "non existent". With that, I would hop back in my time machine and set a course for the present. I would probably end up in another dimension and be trapped for all of eternity because that is the kind of crazy shit that happens when you time travel and thus WHY I HATE IT SO.

So today's McFatty Monday is not going so well. For the sake of ending up in another dimension, let's just forget that I participate in McFatty Mondays for this one time and I'll be back with more encouraging results next week. Happy Monday McFatties!

I may or may not have had Fritos for breakfast.

Happy Monday (said with super sarcasm)!!
I've reached a new low. Last night (or actually this morning when I should have been awake), I had a marvelous dream. It was the kind of dream where you go about your morning routine and you think you're awake, but you're actually oversleeping and your husband is going to be reeeally surprised when you wake him up late. I dreamt (dreamed?) that I woke up and got in the shower and then this heavenly light enveloped me and I started my period! I was so excited! I would start Clomid and not have to take the progesterone! I rushed out of the shower and stepped outside to go to the drug store . . .and I was naked. Then I realized it was a dream and I woke up to find myself running 30 minutes late. Oops!
What kind of sick freak dreams of getting her period and is all happy about it? Answer: this sick freak.
In Fatty news: I maybe ate some Fritos today for breakfast. I couldn't help it. I couldn't eat another piece of toast with PB on it!! Mr. Joe and I have an exciting evening of grocery shopping planned for tonight, so I will be buying oatmeal. I've officially plateaued and have not lost or gained since last week. I suppose its good that I haven't gained any weight, and people are noticing that I'm losing, but now I have to start some form of activity to make it to my final goal of . . .I don't know. Blair asked up this week what we're measuring our final goal as, and I realized that I never actually set a goal weight or size. I've been a size 8 for forever, and don't really feel the need to go down a size. My scale says my goal weight should be 144, but I'm not really sure where it came up with that number. I met Mr. Joe at 135-ish I think, but that was when I was playing rugby and had hours of physical activity a day. I think I will shoot for 140.
To answer Blair's question about if something tastes better then skinny feels, I say ABSOLUTELY. Cake, cookie dough, and beer taste good enough that I would carry an extra 5 lbs of cookie/cake/beer weight around. Life isn't just about being thin. Sometimes, you need a little a cake and beer to liven it up.
That or some breakfast Fritos.
I think I will look into rock climbing as a way to trick myself into exercising this week. I want to try Zumba too. Anything that resembles running on a treadmill or lifting weights just doesn't appeal to me and I can't stick with it. That's my goal for this week - to find something active to do so I can get off of this plateau!
Hope everyone (hey 3 followers!) has a great week!

vaccuming or vaccuuming or vacuuming?

One of my new favorite activities to perform as a secret super hero is vacuuming. Sadly, I was never quite sure how to spell it, so please forgive me if I have not spelled the word correctly. I don't care enough to spell check it. Anyway, when I was child, my evil mother would make me vacuum the whole hideously carpeted house with this old, smelly electrolux. Despite her claims that it had a lifetime guarantee and would never break, it never seemed to pick ANYTHING up off of the floor. I would lug it up the stairs (I'm pretty sure it weighed as much as I did at 8 years old) bitching and moaning the whole way, and once there I would practically get electrocuted turning it on. Then I would sweat as I pushed and pulled the unit all over the hallway until I could stand it no longer. My mother would always find pieces of lint and garbage on the floor that were missed and claim that I didn't put enough of an effort in. Usually, I would run the vacuum while picking up the individual pieces myself.
Now, after reading all of that, you're probably wondering why I would now find such a previously daunting task enjoyable. Firstly, as a household superhero, it is my duty to find my tasks enjoyable and rewarding. The REAL reason, however, is that I am the proud owner of a Dyson Slim. I love this vacuum more than any of my other appliances. It would beat the sorry bag of dirt I had to vacuum with as a child in no time flat. And because of the ease of use I have with this heavenly machine, vacuuming has turned into my peaceful thinking time. The other day, I spent and hour and a half vacuuming the two rooms that we frequent in my house. Of course, the Dyson had them clean in 10 minutes, but there is something about the quite hum of the motor and the lulling motion for pushing and pulling the ball over the floor that I find incredibly liberating. As if these blissful moments weren't enough, an added bonus is that the dogs are scared shitless of the thing and stay at the opposite end of the house!
The Dyson has allowed me to be more in tune with myself. The other day I decided to pursue law school while I was sucking dirt and cobwebs off of the basement stairs. No one would ever suspect me of being a superhero if I was a lawyer! My crazy life as a new wife by day has been turned upside down of late and I find myself wanting to vacuum in the middle of the night, although that would be a little foolish. Still, the peace that it brings me would probably be better than the sleepless nights I've been having. Of course, I could always fight the evils of soapscum if I can't sleep. As we all know, dirt and grime never rest.
So I guess this is my second post. An ode to my Dyson. Here's to the best appliance I ever had!