Like many gals in their twenties, I've wasted hundreds of dollars in the past few years performing at-home pregnancy tests. The kind where you pee on a stick, and with my brand of choice, wait for a plus or minus sign. (Which, evaluating for a moment: is the stick innocently implying a "positive" for pregnancy with a plus sign, like yes-you-are-pregnant-congratulations-new-mommy!! Or, far more likely, mocking me with that pink, ironic, smear of a math symbol? Like yes-you-are-PLUS-ONE-sucka! I can't decide).
It's not that I'm careless. I've taken the Pill for years (minus the days I forgot, and take four at once). Recently, I got a far more permanent option - well, 10 years permanent anyway - and suddenly have no period. Am I pregnant? Who knows! It's the female body, where anything can happen.
Whenever I get bloated - which is often, I blame tofu - I think I have a special somebody living inside my womb. Hello, food baby! Wait - are you a real baby?
Also, when I'm fatigued/grouchy/nauseous, I think, "oh dear - here comes the morning sickness." Even when it is midday, and definitely not morning. This happened once when I got off a plane in Miami, met up with a fellow attendee for a bachelorette party, and told her I threw up in the airport. "Are you pregnant?" She asked. Well, given the circumstances, I sure as hell hope not. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Mommy gave you a second head when she once drank 4 vodka tonics in an hour while wearing a necklace of plastic penises."
What a touching story.
Anyway, seeing as how I'm one to jump to conclusions - baby conclusions - I did become slightly concerned when my period recently went missing for two months. Yoohoo, period! Like a well-meaning but ANNOYING neighbor, I actually wouldn't mind if it packed up and left for good. Off to Florida with you. Maybe that's what I meant when I accidentally wrote on the blank titled "First day of your last menstrual cycle?" on the form at the gyno's office today: "4/7/1982." The nurse was confused, until I calmly explained that I reached menopause at birth. "Oh," she said, eying my leerily. Who let this freak in?
But enough with jokes. She ran a test. I'm not pregnant. Which makes sense, because I am - say it with me - on birth control! Have been, for years! Babies need not apply. This is a fetus-free zone. There shall be no infants passing through these loins. Got it, babies?
At least, until I want a little R. of my own.