You better watch out for that hang nail...

Here's something annoying about being premenopausal, married, and young. Everything that ever happens to you physically EVER is immediately misconstrued as a pregnancy by everyone around you.
For instance, since Tuesday yoga class, I have been feeling weird. IN fact, where normally I fly through yoga and am wanting more, I could barely, barely make it through because I was weak and shaking. Since then, I haven't been able to shake the weak shakies. And I feel swirly and lightheaded. And also, my eyebrows are sweating. I feel like I have a fever.
In short, I feel weird.
It is probably because I haven't eaten any vegetables this week due to lack of groceries. Or the fact that I have been working out a lot. Or the fact that I am exhausted from everything we've had going on. Or the fact that work has been very stressful this week.
But, the second I tell anyone that I feel weird, I am automatically pregnant.
Which, given the vacation celibacy was "go" until last Friday, is physically impossible. And there are other factors of impossibility which I will not go into. But, it is impossible. Not just improbable. Impossible.
But, to try to explain this to someone who already thinks you are prego is like talking to the wall. They just continue to look at you with a smirk and like you are an idiot. Or they start to talk about parenting.
Gag me.
Sara was saying that it can even get so bad that everything you have going on is a sign of pregnancy. Hang nail--you're pregnant. Shingles--you're pregnant. Nearsightedness--you're pregnant.
I am just trying to say I feel really weird. I think it is important to do this so that if I pass out or drop dead that someone can look back on this and know that I was trying to say something and the only thing anyone would say in return is that I obviously have "Zygote Oberlander" growing in my uterus.
In the words of my mother-in-law: Whatever.
I was successful in achieving one of my goals this morning. Dana has been wanting a chair from clean-up week to knit a cushion situation to put on her front porch. We searched everywhere. No chairs. No acceptable chairs, anyway. Well, this morning, I was feeling weird, and I thought "Bab's coffee will make me feel better." So, I ended up taking a different route to work, and what do you think I found? A chair for Dana. Which I promptly deposited onto her front porch.
Another goal was breached this morning. I weighed in and it wasn't horrifying. At least, I am back to where I was before the last two weeks of emotional cellulite that I have been experiencing since the Day of the Bad Weigh-in. And this after a week of not caring at all--being fatalistic. Conclusion? Maybe I should be a fatalist. Maybe then I will lose weight. Or, maybe I wasn't eating enough calories, given my extreme need for movement and exercise. I don't know. But what I will say is this: after trying for 3 years, I can now do a Boy Pushup. Which makes me GI Jane, obviously. Now I have to work on my pull ups.
The sad thing about the weigh-in is that I am still technically where I was on March 30th. So, this is a whole month and a half of weight and emotional rollercoasterness. It is enough to make me crazy. So, the month and a half where I was being "good" got me nothing. What can anyone make of this? Mathematically speaking, I should have lost about 10 pounds. In reality, I gained five and lost five all over again. ?????
So, a good friend of mine has two cysts in her tah-tahs. This is wildly upsetting because 1) she is a good friend of mine and b) because her stupid-ass doctor told her that they would just "wait six months and see what happens." He didn't even offer to do a biopsy to determine if the cysts were cancerous. Instead, he thought the better option would be to allow whatever it is to metastasize into her body so that she could have no hope of dealing with it.
This is bullshit. This is exactly why I hate "modern medicine." Where is the sense in this thought? One biopsy and you know what you're dealing with. It's very simple.
Don't tell me that there is no doctor-insurance agency-drug company conspiracy. Don't tell me that!
So, everyone pray and think good thoughts for this friend of mine. She is obviously going to be getting second opinion.
It is also the kind of day where I am fantasizing a lot about chocolate and chocolate in items such as a huge bowl of chocolate mousse, chocolate salad that they used to make at the Holiday House Inn, hot fudge sundaes from DQ, etc, etc.
I'd like to give a shout out to my pal, Becky, whose birthday was yesterday, and because I am an idiot, I forgot it. In future, I will try to remember that Becky shares a birthday with my mother-in-law. Maybe someday I will be better at birthdays.
Another friend of mine, Sar-Sar, is deciding what to do with her life for the next few years. She is either going to teach school in Guadalajara, Mexico or in Vienna, Austria (both glorious options, in my opinion). She is going through the whole "I can't tell what God is telling me about this decision" thing. I have been there. My conclusion: God isn't telling you anything except to obey is word and do your best to make wise decisions. I don't think he usually gives us "signs" or whatever to tell us what to do. And often, he gives us several good options to chose from. So, I say: Go--God will go with you. And either way, it will be an amazing experience. And, of course, I will come visit you (Vienna, Vienna, Vienna, Vienna--my passport is good until 2010!!)