Oh, PCOS. You're so clingy.

It seems to happen that whenever I get to a point where I'm able to set aside my struggle and engage in life like a normal person, my body decides to throw a weird symptom at me.  I was feeling good this week!  I was getting into the swing of my new job and staying on top of homework and overall doing well!  But obviously, that couldn't last.  Basically, PCOS is an insecure friend who hates it when I hang out with anyone else.  Like, you know in movies when there's that one "friend" who goes to crazy, lying, manipulative lengths to sabotage the main character's relationship for some flimsy and really not believable reason that almost always comes down to jealousy?  I'm talking From Justin to Kelly status (yes, I watched that movie this weekend (no, I don't want to talk about why (shut up.))).  PCOS is that friend.  Every time.

This week it was weird, sharp abdominal cramps on one side, breast pain, and then today some random spotting.  I hate the spotting the most because it was spotting that made me think I was pregnant way back when.  You know, when I was starry-eyed and thought my body could do no wrong.  Back then, I figured it was implantation bleeding.  But, nope!  My body just does whatever it wants whenever it wants.  YOLO, I guess.

So obviously this go-round I'm not getting my hopes up.  Instead, I'm just getting irrationally angry.  That's healthier, right?  Progress?

Also, for those that were wondering, Husband's Best Friend is having a girl.  Arizona Sister-in-Law (who is actually no longer moving to Arizona so maybe I should come up with a new name for her.  But, you know, later) was unable to discover the sex of her baby today because the silly little boy or girl was apparently doing cartwheels in the womb and making it impossible for the ultrasound tech to see their tiny, baby genitals.  So now they have to wait two more weeks.  It basically sucks.

I appreciate your sensitivity . . . but stop it.

My first two posts detailed a few of the insensitive things people say to me about PCOS.  Those things are rough and/or annoying, but sometimes I think the people who are trying to be sensitive are even worse.

Pro tip, my friends: I am not going to fall apart if you say the word baby around me.  I know I'm a mess, but I'm not that bad.  And when you say it and then your face immediately crumples and your eyes water and you get all frowny and say "Oh my gosh, I'm SO sorry" with a caring and compassionate hand on my shoulder and some meaningful eye contact (SO MUCH EYE CONTACT.  THE EYE CONTACT IS NOT NECESSARY), you are not making anything better.  In fact, you are drawing EXTRA attention to my desert wasteland of a womb, and now I have to try to make you feel better and convince you that you didn't just shatter my entire life apart.  It's shattered.  Already.  You're fine; just please stop talking.

Worse, though, is when pregnant friends withhold information from me that I really want to know in the fear that it will utterly destroy my soul beyond repair (I assume that's the fear, anyway).  For example, this weekend Husband's Best Friend and Arizona Sister-in-Law both get to find out the sex of their babies.  I am excited about this.  I promise that I am.  And I've known exactly when this day would come for months now.  I'm prepared.  I will squeal and gush and talk about how great having a baby of that particular sex will be.  I've trained for this.

So when I see Arizona Sister-in-Law gushing all over Facebook with Michigan Niece about how it's coming up and it's so exciting and Michigan Niece wants to know as soon as possible and Arizona Sister-in-Law has been composing cutesy texts to send her... it makes me wonder why she hasn't even told me that it's coming up.  Hard to considering that she's not talking to me at all right now because it is apparently impossible for her to tell me anything pregnancy-related without me dying and it is equally impossible for us to talk about anything whatsoever that isn't pregnancy.  Even though I've tried to tell her that's not true.

For real, though, if she continues her silence and doesn't tell me about the sex of her baby and I have to find that out from Facebook or some nonsense, I will be really hurt.  I don't know whether I should call her and inform her of that or not.  I want her to know, but I wish I didn't have to tell her.  It makes me feel like I'm forcing my way into her personal life, when I used to just be part of it.

You know what?  If she doesn't tell me then I will just pick a sex myself.  And if that is not the correct sex I WILL JUST ACT LIKE IT IS, FOREVER.  Problem solved.