Good Karma... and Money

Have you ever had one of those hangovers where it feels like your brain is suspended in jello, and every time you move your head, it bumps painfully into your skull?

Yes?

Well after six days of hormones, that's how my reproductive organs feel. Or maybe like someone removed them all together and replaced them with a brick. A brick with lots of nerve endings. Similes aside, it is not exactly what you would call pleasant. Though on the plus side, my overwhelming horniness has abated for the time being, as the thought of anyone actually touching the lower half of my body makes me cringe.

Tomorrow morning's sonogram is going to be just a barrel of fun.

Now, at least, I'm starting to understand why the compensation for this process is so high. I don't mean to sound mercenary, and I know that I am giving someone a great gift... but in my present state of discomfort, cold hard cash is a far more tangible reward than good karma.

I've also developed a new-found respect for diabetics, or anyone else who has to administer subcutaneous medication while in a public place. I've had to inject myself twice while at work, and let me tell you... perching on the edge of a toilet seat with my tights around my knees and my skirt hiked up around my waist, preparing to stick a needle in my thigh while shouting "Occupied!" as one or more persons rattle the door trying to gain entry to the restroom is not a position in which I ever expected to find myself.

The subsiding of my sex drive, however, has not decreased my interest in The Guy in the slightest--leading me to believe that my attraction to him is not just the hormones and that, for better or for worse, I do actually like him. We had a late night text message conversation last night, and the fact that I've read over it a few times and can't help grinning while I do so also points in that direction.

Yep. I think I'm in trouble.