The muse has descended, and her name is Little Miss Pissypants.
Despite being in a good mood lately, with the kid stuff going well and Law & Order/Cold Case/ER re-runs firmly established on UK daytime television, I've found myself stopping to think of all the things that annoy me. First of all, yes, I am that cynical and negative. Second, I am so self-absorbed as to think you care enough to read about them.
1) Disease. The past few weeks have been full of holiday cheer - The Dude's grandfather's rapid decline as a result of aggressive lung cancer despite never having picked up a cigarette, and my uncle's recent diagnosis of ALS, a disease so horrible I can barely fathom its equal.
2) Christmas cards. Other than my own blogging Christmas card exchange (naturally), I hate them. By the by, folks getting the cards with the mini photo album- my ass looks great in the hot pants. Anyway, what is the point to giving Christmas cards to people you see all the time? Can't I just wish them a Merry Christmas in person? This Christmas card bullshit was emphasised to me last week when I wrote out the cards for The Dude's family. I worried that a couple of them were left over cards from last year, and I was assured that no one would possibly remember what Christmas card was given a full year ago. Everyone except The Dude's Aunt Rudetta McRude of course. She was very quick to point out that we had in fact given her this very same card last year, and gee...wouldn't we like to invest in new Christmas cards so she doesn't have to suffer the indignity of getting the same card yet again?
3a) Peoples' perception of IVF, specifically, my IVF. As I mentioned awhile ago, I have gradually been edging out of the closet regarding my illustrious reproductive history. Three times now I have been smacked in the face with, "Wow, it worked the first time? Lucky you!" from women far more fertile than myself. Yeah, lucky me. IVF #1 did in fact work, but unfortunately 1 year of trying sans medication, 6 months of Clomid, and 4 cycles of IUI did not. But yes, lucky me indeed. You are qualified to say this to me if you have also been through this shit, but if you got knocked up thanks to a quick fumble after a bit too much wine at the Olive Garden, shut the fuck up. That's all I'm sayin...
b) When I tell you about my IVF, do not express regret at my troubles and then say, "I had a friend who did a couple of cycles of IVF. When I got pregnant the first time we tried (editor's note: this is a completely true account), I felt so bad because I don't have any trouble and it's so easy for me!" Ha! Thank you for telling me this! When someone tells you about something so personal and painful for them, please, tell them how you have had a completely opposite and positive experience. They love that.
4) Clueless men. I was watching a birth show today and a woman in labour asked for an epidural after her contractions became too painful. This woman's husband, clearly an asshole, said to the camera, "I don't want her to have an epidural. I'm disappointed in her. I wish she could just work through the pain." Oh no he didn't. I didn't have any drugs during my labour and delivery, but that was mainly because I didn't think I was going to have a baby anytime soon. By the time my contractions got so painful that I was ready to rip my spine out through my mouth it was too late and P. was on her way down the birth canal, all bags packed and ready to leave the comfort of my uterus. The Dude wasn't there for much of my contractions having been sent home by the midwife, but had he said anything remotely similar to that fuckwad above I think I would have ripped his testicles off with my bare hands.
5) Husbands with no tact. Yesterday I left the house to take P. on a quick walk in her stroller. As soon as I got to the sidewalk, The Dude shouted down to me from P.'s bedroom window about some random crap I can't remember. This is followed by the very loud statement, "Hey! That guy in the white van was just totally checking out your ass! He nearly crashed and everything! I'm not kidding, he was so staring at your ass!" I live in England. In a city in fact. A city with streets that have a lot of houses and apartment buildings crammed in a small space. Given the condensed nature of everything, people walk places. If you shout something like this from a 3rd story window, people will hear. At least 4 pedestrians were lucky enough to witness this event, and no doubt tried to sneak a look at this wagon I'm draggin'. For the record, please do recall my Mom's regular insistence that I have no ass at all. Yes, my Mom chooses to tell me this. All the time. The flatness of my ass is of primary importance to her it seems.
As a quick aside, I will tell you that contrary to my Mom's "Pru's butt is flat" theory, at least three times my ass has been the subject of compliment. The first time occurred when I was 18 and working in a sporting goods shop. I was reaching up with one of those long pole things to get a shirt off a high rack, and the customer I was helping leaned over and said, "Your ass looks really good in them jeans." You can imagine my joy that not only was someone commending me on my ass while I was at work, but it was from a person who would say "them jeans". It was a proud moment.
Time number two was just last year when I was at a cash machine. I was feeling fat, frumpy and like the muffintopping was crazy out of control. As I was entering my pin, some guy walked by slowly and said, "Hey, nice ass." Well, it was probably "Hey, nice arse.", but to-may-tos/to-mah-tos, right?
Point being - Mom says it's flat, but apparently at least some people think it's round.
6) The Us vs Them mentality: IF'ers and The Fertiles. As I'm sure you're all aware, a certain website has chosen to select a few IF blogs to pass comment on. Regardless of what you think on that matter, I was disappointed to see that many of the commenters on that site chose to point out how little infertility matters in the great scheme of things. Additionally, a lot of the commenters who expressed this opinion also saw fit to slag off the irrational nature of the infertile. I don't doubt that many of us would admit to being irrational. I'm sure many of the things I've said in the (nearly) two years of this blog's existence aren't necessarily popular, and I am the first to admit that I'm capable of being completely, utterly and absurdly irrational . However, I do find it strange that infertility is one of those subjects that people who have never experienced it still find themselves suited to pass judgment. For some reason it's still not viewed as a very serious issue, so I think many are quite casual about it. Shame.
Conversely, some of the commenters have a point when it comes to the irrational. Ever since I started reading IF blogs it has driven me batshit crazy how defensive some bloggers and their commenters can be. Post a slightly disagreeable, non troll-like comment about something that was said, and suddenly you have a group of infertiles on you like piranha. The commenter who hasn't kissed ass is insulted, innundated with emails if they haven't posted anonymously, and told how they don't understand. I don't think it really helps this perception of IF bloggers as crazed bitches. If I posted something that invited comments from people who didn't agree with me, fair play. I don't want rabid people jumping to my (or IFers as a whole) defense and thus hijacking my blog to serve the purpose of all the poor, misunderstood infertiles out there. Just to let you know in preparation for my post on the need to behead all women who can get pregnant without the aid of a petri dish.
Ahh...I feel better now. I must go fluff my ass in preparation for my Mom's arrival on Sunday. On with the fluffing.