"Nothin' like a good piece o' ass"

This lazy afternoon, I'm watching one of my very favorite movies, Steel Magnolias. It's a sad movie, but it's somehow happy at the same time. I've loved it since I was little.

Plus, it's full of such great quotes. Aside from the title of the blog, there's "He's such a gentleman. I bet he takes the dishes out o' the sink 'fore he pees in it!" ... "He's so confused he doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his butt." ... and one of my favorites, "I assure you my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair."

But now this movie is tied to great memories, too. In the spring of 2009, shortly after K got home from Iraq, he and I went to visit the town where the movie was filmed. It was only 45 minutes from where K was stationed in Louisiana, and I actually had to drive through it every time I went to visit him.

Heather is a big fan of the movie, too, so she and B came with us. We had so much fun!

The house where Shelby and her family lived is a bed & breakfast now, and of course that's where we stayed. K and I stayed in Shelby's room, and Heather & B were next door in the room that Jackson crawls into through the window on their wedding day.

The Eatenton house, where Shelby lived with her parents and brothers

Heather and me

K, me, Heather, & B

Shelby's room, where K and I stayed

Of course it's all pink -- it's her "signature color"!

A picture from the movie, displayed in the very spot the picture was taken.

IT'S THE PINK BATHTUB!!!! I showered here.

This was in Heather & B's room. This is the window Jackson climbed into on their wedding day. It's even the same curtains!

This is where Shelby tells M'Lynn she's pregnant!!!

Just a fun shot of my animal whisperer husband, making friends with the homeowners' dog.

The back staircase of the house

The kitchen, which looks exactly the same as in the movie. I'm sure the homeowners are aching for a remodel, but I'm glad they haven't touched it.

Heather and I had a blast going through the house and exclaiming, "This is where [insert movie moment here]!!!" We reenacted and quoted our favorite lines in their actual locations.

So much fun!

What a good weekend. :)

During ... & After

 I survived the big haircut, and I've got pictures to prove it.

Prepping the hair ...

Starting to cut ... 

Snip, snip, snip!

Yikes!!! 

There's a big picture gap here because I was upset at the stylist for rushing through the donation part. She tried to cut by eyeballing the measurement. I stopped her, though, and whipped out the measuring tape I'd brought just in case (thank goodness!). 

I was probably anxious about the donation, and it was all cut off so fast! By the time my hair was washed and the stylist had started cutting my post-donation hair, though, I was able to loosen up. 

And luckily, I went from reeeeeeeeally not liking the stylist to thinking she was pretty darn OK.   

Done! This is the shortest my hair has been since I was 9 years old! 

My donation. I don't know why, but I think this is kind of gross ...

The back. This lady got my hair looking as good as the NYC salon! 

My new baby ponytail!

I'm OK with the final results. It's a little more of a young and cute style than I'd typically go for -- especially since people always think I'm younger than I am as it is -- but it's not bad. I'm sure as I get used to it, I'll like it more and more.

For now, I'm so glad this is all done!

See the Before shots here.

Before ...

In a few minutes, I'll be heading to DC to get my hair cut.

Objects in front of wall are not as green (or pale) as they appear.

This picture totally verifies my anger at my last haircut. What a hack job!

Looooooooong! I'll be donating my hair straightened. 

Did I not mention I'm driving 3 hours just to get a haircut?

Considering it's the biggest cut I've ever had, I'm leavin' this one to the big guns.

Is this length gonna cut it?

Friends, I need your help. Badly.

I have been growing out my hair since October of 2009. It started on accident. I'd gotten a fantastic haircut, and by January, I couldn't believe how long my hair had gotten. I decided to keep going and donate it. It would take no time at all!

Only my hair decided to stop growing as quickly, and along the way I tried to get a couple basic maintenance trims that turned into full-on haircuts, thanks to overzealous stylists who didn't pay attention to my "half-inch or inch at the most. I'm growing it to donate it" instructions. Those set me back a few months, and it happened twice. Yuck.

So now here I am, seventeen months later, ridiculously ready to hack off my hair. For months I've been getting more and more anxious to see it all go. It's in my way; it's in K's way. I'm ready to get to put layers back in it. I'm ready for my hair to be my hair.

I mentioned this to a coworker a couple weeks ago, so she decided to measure it for me. She told me it's 10" long at the middle of my back from my shoulders, and it's 8" on the sides, with the (grown out) layers that frame my face. I only need 8" for the Beautiful Lengths donation I intend to make. Suh-weet!

I excitedly scheduled my appointment last week. I'm supposed to go in this Saturday.

Only now I'm getting cold feet.

I had K remeasure my hair just in case. Nine inches from the bottom of my curly hair is right at my shoulders. That could be bad. If my hair gets cut above my shoulders, it becomes horizontal. I'll have to straighten it, which is a huge pain, until it grows out.

But what if I'm so nervous about having my hair long enough after the cut that I don't let them cut enough, and it all just has to get thrown out because it's unusable? What a waste!

What if the layers I told the stylists to ignore (and they didn't) make the majority of my hair unusable?

(And what if the hair gets lost in the mail before it gets to the company? Agh!)

Let me give you a visual here.

I will donate to Beautiful Lengths, which requires an 8" donation. I figure I'll give them 9", just to be sure they have enough. (Also, for those of you who clicked the link from my last major haircut, for the record, I do own other shirts than this one.)

That rubber band -- where my hair will be cut -- is dangerously close to my shoulders. Like potentially ugly close to my shoulders. Since my hair is curly, it will likely kink up and be above them. 

My options: 

• Cancel the appointment and reschedule for a later date (May, maybe?). 
• Cancel the appointment, immediately begin taking prenatal vitamins for the next 4 weeks. Then switch back to my vitapaks so those aren't wasted ... and when those are finished, resume the prenatals, since we planned on having me start those anyway.
• Go to the appointment, hack off my hair, and straighten it for a few weeks -- potentially with some prenatals in the mix -- until the awkward stage is over. Enjoy the warm fuzzy feeling that goes with knowing there's a little girl out there who won't have to worry about how she'll look when her illness takes her hair because of my donation and Beautiful Lengths.
• Go to the appointment and donate my straightened hair. That means less taken while still meeting the requirements, and I'll still have more left after the donation. Hopefully everyone wins. I may or may not have to use the straightener and prenatal post-haircut option. But I'll still get the warm fuzzy feeling.

My hair has been close to shoulder-length before. Maybe it'll look OK.

Either way, please feel free to weigh in. Either way, I am donating. It's just a matter of when (and how I deal with it post-cut).

With something as important as hair, I feel like I just can't make this decision on my own!

Looking for advice

Jewelry Storage

I've been expanding my jewelry collection over the last couple years, thanks first to H&M and now to friends having jewelry parties (gotta show my support!). My jewelry box just isn't going to cut it anymore. 

I've seen those cute little frames with the wires on them, but those only hold so much. And there are these, which are charming, but I'd like my storage system to not cost too much more than I'd spend on the jewelry it'll hold. 

I'm contemplating something like this, but I thought I'd check with you guys first. What do you do?

Dealing with Gum

I hate gum popping. Hate. It. 

I think it stems from my childhood. My mom is one of the worst offenders in the world. One of her favorite times to chew gum? In the car. So picture me, my poor brother, and my dad, stuck in a car for hours with my mom pop, pop, popping away.

Torture. 

I finally learned to make a game out of it, so that's what my brother and I did. We'd count each and every gum pop. Sometimes, it got hard to count that high. But it turned the popping into something funny, and we'd be laughing and shaking our heads over the fact my mom had just popped her gum more than 120 times in 5 minutes.  

She didn't realize she was doing it. But she'd hear us laughing miserably, ask why, and then laugh herself, embarrassed, when we told her how bad it was. Right before she started popping again a few minutes later. It was a habit.

So gum popping is (and always has been) one thing I just can't tune out. I can put in headphones and crank 'em up, and that works depending on how far the offender is from me. 

But I have a coworker who really loves popping gum. I usually put in headphones, but sometimes music is distracting too. And I feel like I shouldn't have to put in headphones every other day so this lady can do something distracting in an office place.

This is a question I've wondered many, many times. I've even found myself at a Broadway show sitting in front of an offender who popped through the show. I seriously think these punkwads follow me around.  

So what do you think: 

Is there a polite way to ask a person to stop popping their gum?

Happy St. Patty's Day!

I'm sporting my green today (duh). I've even got it on my fingernails ... kind of.

I've been on the lookout for a certain shade this season, and I've tried different polishes and been disappointed. Today, though, I found it. I hadn't tried this brand before, but I'll definitely get more of it. I don't know what's different about this brush, but it's awesome! Plus, the polish dries so quickly, and so far the polish seems to be pretty tough.

Mint Sprint. Love it!
(No, those aren't my hands. Picture taken from here.)

Yay for being festive!

I'm going to remember this one for later!

I've asked K probably 10 times to schedule an appointment to have our taxes filed. I'd call them myself, but I think K has to do it. Plus, he has the number. How long can a phone call take?

K will be out all next week, meaning we could find ourselves in "oh shit!" territory with eleventy billion procrastinators if we don't schedule an appointment soon.

I texted K a reminder about it this morning. He was in a meeting, he said, and hadn't scheduled "...yet."

Just a few minutes ago, I texted him:
If you call today, I'll wear my black lacy thong tonight ... and let you take it off. If you *don't call today, I'll wear period panties.


Not 5 minutes later, K texted me back:
30 March at 10:30. Boom! 


His last line said it all:
Nice motivation BTW!


Guess I should've tried that in February (when I first started bugging him about this).

Why you'll never see me on Operation Homecoming

As a military spouse, I am evidently the perfect person to send all military-related emails to.

A "we don't appreciate them enough" chain letter? Why not.
An email full of pictures of soldiers at war? Sure!
A poem from a family member's perspective about missing a deployed soldier? Perfect.

The list goes on. Some of the things I get (from my mom, from friends, from my father-in-law, brother-in-law, K's cousins, neighbors, and that chick I just met through my friend's brother) are good. Lots of them aren't.

But I'm a sucker for the homecoming videos. Every time I see them, the first thought that enters my head is, "I know what that feels like!!!" 

The anticipation, the nerves, the excitement, the feeling that time can't drag any slower ...

I've been there. And the effort it takes to keep the tears in my eyes from spilling over when I see videos like that is ridiculous.

But that new show on TLC, Operation Homecoming? No. I will not watch it. First off, I'd spend the entire time bawling my eyes out, which leads to a headache ... but that's not even the main reason.

The thing is, if K ever did that to me, I would be pissed.

I think the show is perfect for kids. It's really probably best to surprise them with something like that because kids aren't good at waiting for things they're really excited for -- the waiting just doesn't make sense to them yet. 

But me?

Like, if K were to be gone for 12 effing months and then randomly show up and surprise me? As soon as I could see through my tears, I'd punch him in the face!

I'd immediately fire 200 questions at him: When did you get here? Where did you arrive? Why couldn't I be there to greet you? How long have you been within a few minutes of me?!!  

The truth is, after all that time apart, the last thing I'd want is to know I missed out on even an hour of seeing him. Especially since I'd surely have already chosen my homecoming outfit (probably two months in advance!) and would definitely not be wearing it at that time. I wouldn't be finished with my homecoming to-do list.

I get it: To the soldier coming home, those things aren't that big of a deal. But to the family members who've stayed home and trudged through the last year? We want things to be as close to perfect as possible.

And we sure as heck don't want to miss a single second of togetherness!

For the record, I've made it clear to K how I feel about this. Heard. Understood. Acknowledged.

We're really gonna do this ... I think

It seems K's coming around to our little family planning ... plan. While we were in PA last weekend, I overheard him telling his brother that we'll probably have a baby in the next year or two, and the next day, I heard him telling his friend's wife (that couple is K's age and has 5 kids!) the same thing.

I've still pretty much kept it a secret. I told you guys, and I finally told ER about it several weeks after I wrote the post. It's come up in conversations with Heather, who reads my blog (actually, who I know from the blog), and with CG, since she reads occasionally also.

But that's it.

My aunt asked me about it over Christmas, and I told her we'll start thinking more seriously in a year or two, but I didn't go into details. I've told people I'm not really repulsed by the idea of having kids soon anymore, which was a big enough development for these people to understand how big of a development it was (my, am I eloquent today!). Part of me doesn't want the barrage of questions to come from my very ready family, and the other part thinks it's fun to have a little secret.

But even though I haven't been talking about it much, I've been thinking more about this whole baby thing. One of my closest friends, Danielle, gave birth to her first baby -- a girl -- last week. Seeing her pictures is exciting, and I feel more ready to be in that phase myself. Not completely ready, but I have a feeling that transition will take place soon after a positive pregnancy test.

K and I have talked more about our plan. I'll finish my last pack of birth control pills in mid-May. We'll resort to other methods at that time, but we know other methods are less effective than the pill, which could mean we get pregnant immediately. (Not that there's any guarantee that won't happen before we stop with the pill.)

Timing-wise, it's kind of go-time. We know we're here in VA for another year, probably leaving sometime after Memorial Day next year (I'll be a few months from 29 by then). After that, we'll likely spend 10 months in our next location while K is in a school (approaching 30 by then). After that? Who knows. But a deployable unit is very likely, which means me ... raising a baby ... by myself ... potentially in a strange place.

This sucks, but it's kind of what we've signed on for. The price you pay for marrying a badass superhero. While I would hate to have K miss any part of our future children's lives, it's part of military life, plain and simple. Not to say that any pregnancy or birth or growing baby is less meaningful than another, but I'd love to have K be here for all of those firsts (especially since I have no clue how my body will react to this business).

We could wait until after a likely deployment, but we'd like to have a baby before I'm 30 (which is 35 for K). And while things are wrapping up in Iraq and Afghanistan, we may find ourselves at war with another country/ies in the next coming years. Or the world could just end in 2012 ... (does anyone else like making the 2012 joke as much as I do?)

So basically -- even without deployments considered -- this is as stable as we'll be for the next 2 years. And even though driving/moving halfway across the country with an infant doesn't sound like the best-case scenario, it definitely sounds better than being pregnant and/or giving birth while moving halfway across the country.

Which brings me to the next item on my mind: space. We live in a 3-bedroom home. We have a nice, spacious guest room, and I intend to keep it that way. Which leaves us with our office. Our tiny little office.

It's dark (partly because of the paint, which I love, and partly because of the size and fact there's no overhead light). It's small. It's funny-shaped -- kind of triangular.

And we'd have nowhere else to put anything in there at this time.

Which means we'd just have to throw in a crib, probably on the half-OU, half-Army wall. At least there's a nice closet in there, which would minimize the need to find room for a dresser or something.

Would we have to repaint? Would it be OK not to? Would we want to? Would it make sense if we're only looking at being there with a baby (potentially, that is) for a couple months?

Is this bad?

So much to think about!

I get busy ... You get 6 posts in 1!

Time Flies. That's It

How the hell does my life go by so quickly? The last time I posted, I had just gotten home from Orlando. I spent two nights in my own bed before heading north for a conference for work. Got back on Thursday, just in time to get ready for a massive party at our house on Saturday night, which brings me to ...

Mardi Gras -- Let's Not Do That Again

We had our kickball team over to the house on Saturday to celebrate Mardi Gras. We've hosted lots of parties at our place, since we're the only ones who live in a house (everyone else is single & in an apartment), and I worried that this one might blend in with all the others. Considering K spent 5 years in Louisiana and I felt like a semi-resident for about 4 years, we wanted to show everyone what Bourbon Street is all about.

So we found a recipe for hurricanes as close to the authentic Pat O'Brien's flavor as possible (we didn't think ahead enough to just order the mix. Four liters of liquor, and some grenadine, pineapple juice, and OJ later, we had our lethal potion. It was delicious, but it was destructive. As were the Jello shots made with 100-proof vodka.

Two beers, two hurricanes, and two Jello shots later, I woke up on the bathroom floor at 6 a.m. Not pretty. The last thing I remember is stepping into the garage (evidently somewhere around midnight) to watch people playing beer pong. I did make it upstairs to the comfort of my bathroom before getting sick, and K checked on me in between enjoying the rest of the party.

I kid you not, I did not feel right again until Tuesday. I have never been like that, EVER, and I've only even gotten sick from drinking a couple of times (OK, 3).

I never want another hurricane or (100-proof) Jello shot again.

Runnin', runnin' and runnin', runnin'

My little running group is going so well! We're in week 6 of the Couch-to-5k program, and these people who weren't comfortable jogging at all can now jog for 8 straight minutes! This program is great because it goes in intervals, which is a lot easier for someone just getting started. This week, we ran for 18 minutes total, but it was broken up with 3-minute walks (jog 5, walk 3, jog 8, walk 3, jog 5). Much easier mentally.

They're just 3 weeks out from running a full 5k, which is awesome. The group is loving it and is really please with themselves (as am I!) for their progress. One of the girls said on Monday, "These intervals are so much easier! Why didn't my gym teacher have us doing this? I could've been running this way instead of huffing and puffing and having to stop all those years."

I can't take credit for the training program, but I'm glad they've got the motivation to get moving. Amazing!

Staying in VA

We're officially staying in VA another year. We announced the exciting news to our kickball team at the Mardi Gras party on Saturday (just after the first Jello shot). I'm hoping the people we're renting our house from let us stay in it another year. Fingers crossed!

Job Prospect

Last week, kickball friend sent me a link to a job opening at her place of work. I think I'm about half-qualified, but she assures me I'll be just fine and an amazing applicant. I wasn't sure about applying, since making a move toward getting out of a job (no matter how frustrating the job is) is really scary. But the friend met my coworker/friend at our Mardi Gras party. Coworker knows how frustrated I am, and I guess that came up. Kickballer told her about this opportunity after I'd exited the party. Coworker brought it up with me this week and said she thinks I should apply.

That same night, I talked to Heather, who told me the same thing. "What's the harm in applying?" she asked. Touche.

So apply I did. Last night. Half-heartedly. Very scaredly.

I have no clue what I want.

That Last Sentence Isn't Entirely True

What I want is to stay at home. Sleep in my own bed. My soft, fluffy, cozy, super comfortable bed. Wash my face at my own sink. Dry off with my own towels. Lounge on my own couch, watching my own TV. Gaze out at my own back yard (which has daffodils and hyacinth in full bloom in the flowerbeds!).

But not tonight. Or tomorrow night.

We're headed to PA this afternoon to party with K's friends for St. Patty's Day.

Turns out my shiny newly aversion to Jello shots and hurricanes applies also to large quantities of beer, which are what is in the cards for this weekend.

Especially when we're driving 6+ hours to consume such large quantities of beer.

When gas is $3.45 a gallon.

When, because of conditions in PA, we'll be traveling in K's gas-guzzling SUV instead of my little coupe.

When daylight savings time is really going to make Sunday that much more brutal.

My head hurts already.

I'm still pissed at you, AirTran, but thanks for the motivation

I already posted about the drama that took place once we arrived in Orlando. Believe it or not, the trip started off with even more drama.

K and I were set to fly out just before noon. Friends who were also going to the wedding from NYC left on a flight that morning that stopped in our area on its way. We had booked our flight so we would join them on that layover. We were set to arrive in sunny Orlando around 2 p.m. -- just in time to enjoy the pool.

K and I got to the airport and got checked in an hour before the flight. We picked up Chick-fil-A -- our friends' request, which we were happy to fulfill (there's no CFA in NYC, and we love the food so much that we get pumped for "CFA days"). When we checked in, the airline didn't give us tickets, telling us instead to get them at the gate. Weird, but whatever.

Except when we got to the gate, they told us the flight was overbooked. I know this happens a lot, so I didn't think much of it. Until the gate was empty, save for us and another couple, and the employees didn't seem to have any plans of letting us on that flight. We had some real Meet the Parents moments as the gate attendants spoke on their little loudspeakers even though we were the only ones there and were standing right in front of them.

We began getting nervous, so we started asking questions. Evidently none of us actually selected a seat when we booked our flight. I never do that if there aren't two together. Sometimes you have to pay extra to book a seat, and most times the people at the counter are able to get K and me seats together anyway. If not, well, I really don't care where I sit, so I figured it was no big deal.

Silly me, I had thought that when I clicked "Book Tickets," I was reserving my seat on the flight. Boy, was I wrong.

The other way around the overbooking mess is to check in online -- which, of course, is not free with AirTran -- and we never do that because I think it's ridiculous that online check-in even exists.

Anyway, you can see where this is going. Door closes. Jetway leaves. So does plane. K and I (and other couple) still at airport.

Dis. Like.

(In case you're wondering, the employees were kind enough to deliver the CFA to our friends.)

The four of us left standing were none to happy about it. To appease us, AirTran generously (whatever -- they said it doesn't cost them a thing) gave us each a round-trip ticket to anywhere AirTran flies. They booked us on a flight through Charlotte (our original flight had been direct), where we could attempt standby on two earlier flights before settling for our guaranteed seats on a 10 p.m. flight.*

Defeated, K and I went back home to wait out our layover. We watched Couples Retreat, a movie we'd DVR'd months ago. Despite two weddings and 3.5 years of marriage, K and I have still never been on a honeymoon (we had planned on going back to Destin, where we got married, last September ... but the whole oil spill nixed that trip), and the only trip we've taken by ourselves without meeting other people at our destination was a 36-hour ski trip that I spent sick (I try to time all illnesses with vacations).

When the movie showed the couples arriving at their tropical resort, I immediately teared up. I hadn't realized how badly I've been wanting to go on a nice trip together -- alone.

Only now, we have these nice little tickets to anywhere AirTran flies. The gate attendants told us their priciest flight is to Montego Bay, which can run up to $1200.

Free airfare to Jamaica sounds pretty dang good.

*In case you're wondering, our first standby attempt was successful, so we arrived in Orlando at 8 p.m. ... which is where my first post picks up. A crappy** trip, from start to finish. 
**Badum ching!

This is already getting old (also, TMI THROUGHOUT)

Can someone tell me what ISN'T a symptom of pregnancy?!!

When I had thought about how I'd share parts of this story before, I was going to be a little less informative, but now I think that's out the window.

So last Thursday, K and I flew to Orlando for a wedding (more on all this later. I promise). Because of circumstances I will explain later, I wound up having a 2-hour old Chik-fil-A meal for lunch. I ate a brownie that afternoon. K had all of these things.

Flash forward a few hours, when we're about to touch down in Orlando. That's when my stomach starting going downhill. I thought it was motion sickness, even though I've never had problems on planes before. I just felt a little sick, a little headache ... nothing crazy. I figured I was just ready to be done flying.

We land. Go to dinner. I eat chips & salsa. By the time my dinner gets in front of me, I have no appetite (I didn't eat that much chips & salsa). I force some down to avoid wasting it. Take the rest to the hotel.

That night, diarrhea. Ew.

The next morning? More diarrhea. And then vomiting. Like, ohmygoshwilliteverstop vomiting. (For the record, Chili's is disgusting the second time around.)

More diarrhea. Chills. Then getting really sweaty.

Luckily, all that drama took place between 8 p.m. Thursday and 8:30 a.m. Friday. After I threw up, my stomach felt better ... but the diarrhea stayed. Which meant in the hotel I stayed, instead of going to Disney World.

I forced down some Sprite and crackers. Drank some water. Still had diarrhea.

I thought it was food poisoning. Just knew it was food poisoning. I took Immodium and, like a real trooper, still went to the gathering the bride & groom were hosting Friday night. I drank ginger ale (that stuff is amazing and magical! How did I never try it before?), and I ate 6 whole (tiny triangular) pieces of pita bread.

I got so excited that it was all over when I got back to the hotel and only had to pee ... and then I remembered I still had the stupid Immodium in my system.

Saturday, I woke up and only had a little diarrhea. I thought maybe it was the reserves the Immodium had prevented from leaving (yes, I know that's disgusting. I'm sorry). I still felt fine. I cautiously ate a little Mickey Mouse waffle (with syrup on the side). The rest of the day, I stuck to Sprite and crackers.

At the wedding late Saturday afternoon, I thought I felt the first tiny tinges of hunger I'd felt since Thursday. It was over. Thank God, it was over!

I ate hors d'oeuvres at the cocktail hour. Even drank a beer! With dinner, another beer (the food poisoning is over! Celebrate!) along with a few bites of the not-so-good food. I ate just a couple small bites of cake (do you know how hard that is to do with red velvet? Thank God it was fondant icing, or I might not have been able to control myself).

I didn't push it any further, but I did have a Coke at the bar after (being sick means you get to play DD all weekend). I was still on Immodium (just in case), but the night was drama-free for my stomach.

That Sunday, we went with friends for lunch. Since my food poisoning was over, I was excited that they settled on a pizza place. I still hadn't felt hungry, really, but if anything would make me want to eat, it would be pizza.

We ate cheesy garlic bread. I drank a Coke (no more Sprite!!!). I ate a piece of pizza. But I didn't really enjoy it like I'd hoped. I could hardly put down one slice. I'm a pretty big eater for a girl -- especially when it comes to pizza.

Soon after lunch, though, I realized what I had was still there, so it definitely wasn't food poisoning. More diarrhea.

Are you freaking kidding me?

Sunday night, it was back to crackers and Sprite. F'ing crackers and Sprite.

Yesterday, I braved it with a granola bar for breakfast. Soup for lunch (I hate soup. It's so boring and always feels like punishment food.). Pasta for dinner. I had to force it down again, and even then, it was only a fraction of what I'd normally eat.

Today? Still no appetite. But still no diarrhea.

I posted on FB about it:  
Sad story: I can name everything I have eaten since Thursday (the list isn't long). I don't know what this bug is, but I'm definitely ready for it to leave my system.

In true "Hey, you're of child-bearing age!", I got this from a mommy friend: "And you're sure it's a stomach bug?!? Nothing else....."

Just for the hell of it, I googled. 

Lack of appetite and diarrhea are both symptoms of pregnancy. Obviously vomiting is (though that only happened Friday morning). 


But do you know what else is a fucking sign of fucking pregnancy?!!! Increased appetite and constipation. 


Ev.ry.thing. is a sign of pregnancy. 


Guess I better go buy a freakin' box of tests on my lunch break. 


At least I know where the cheap ones are now.