Ninapintasantamaria's Blog

{February 6, 2009}   Well, crap.

I just read that metformin is only used to stimulate your ovaries if you’re overweight and have PCOS.  Great.  I just have to wait it out until menopause now, with no children and no money for possibly useless/ineffective fertility treatments.  Great.  I’m so excited I can hardly contain myself.  Why is this happening to me?  How odd.  For the 1st and hopefully last time in my life, I just wished I was overweight.  Dammit.

{February 6, 2009}   Let it go.

I’ve been told this sooo many times in my life.  I’ve never really understood it, because how can you let it go unless it gets fixed to your satisfaction?  And you’ve said your peace?  I am not a “let it go” kind of personality.  I can hold a grudge for years.  I’m still pissed off at the pediatrician who told my mom I “might” have a viral infection, thereby precluding my participation in a slumber party that night.  I was 7.  That doctor was really an idiot.  He also tried to tell her I had hodgkins lymphoma because the parotid glands in my face swelled up.  Moron.  You don’t panic a mother and ruin everyone else’s day by giving too much info with not enough back up.  Idiot.  Anyway, what I’m really writing about is that I’m still trying to be patient and let my husband handle this “friend” situation.  And no, I’m not letting go.  You try it.  Let me know how it works for you.  His dumbass should have handled this problem before it ever got to me by saying “Hey dude, I work really wierd hours, so just call me between like 9am and 4. K?”  How hard would that have been?  I swear, if he leaves it to me to handle, he will NOT like the way I do it.  I just commented on a blog that was trying to tell everyone “Are you gonna remember this in a year?  If not, chill out.”  I couldn’t help myself, I just had to let him know that some of us aren’t so lucky as to be able to forget things like that.  I’m damn close to having a photographic memory.  I can still spit back conversations I had in high school.  I can tell you just about every detail of my day yesterday.  Verbatim.  This is why I get in trouble all the time for talking too much.  I’m giving details that stick in my head, not realizing that no one else finds these things important but me.  I finally just had to explain to my husband (not so patiently, by now) that if this situation only affected him, it would be perfectly ok to tell his friends to call whenever they shit to tell him all about it, but as it affects me too, it would really be nice if he would curb their enthusiasm just a bit.  Jobs, bills, lives, etc….we’ve covered this all before.  His friends don’t have them, we do.   Blah, blah, blah.  Which I think is all he hears.  Like Charlie Brown’s teacher.  His real problem is that he’s passive-aggressive.  He’s perfectly capable of seeing there’s a problem.  He even agrees that a problem exists.  He just doesn’t want to be responsible for fixing it, so by letting me be the bitch, he’s solved both problems, and his friends don’t possibly maybe for even one second get mad at him.  They just all agree that I’m stupid, bitchy, etc and to shut me up, they’ll comply.  We can’t just be straightforward about this.  Oh, no, we have to be all gay about it and come in through the back door.  Men are like extra children.  See this post.  Highly educational.  Let it go, my ass.

et cetera