Girls Don’t Buy Dresses From Sweaty Hot Messes

March 3rd, 2011.  CD7.

Bear with me while I make my way to the point of this post…

My last Ob-Gyn was a jerkface, with a capital J.  She wouldn’t listen to my concerns about my possible fertility issues, and she refused to look at the comically large stack of BBT charts I brought with me to our first appointment.  She did my exam, told me that the husband and I weren’t making enough Sexy Time, and told me that if I wasn’t pregnant in a year, to come back and see her.

That was my last appointment with Dr. Jerkface.

I was lucky enough to be referred to my current doctor–we’ll call her Dr. Awesome–by a friend in the area who has seen her for quite some time.  Dr. Awesome not only listened to my concerns like a compassionate human being, but she formulated a game plan for conception before I walked out of her office that day.

Dr. Awesome is my hero!

So anyway, Dr. Awesome wants me to take Clomid CD5-CD9 again this month.  Last cycle was interesting… I took the little white hot-flash pill before bed so that I would maybe not experience as many of the side effects that can arise.  That did not work. This cycle I chose to take the meds in the morning before work to see how that worked out for me…

Just for a point of reference, I live in Michigan.  It’s cold here.  The bridal salon where I work has a whole bunch of west-facing windows that do not insulate very well against the cold wind, and therefore, I usually wear tights and socks under my pants, and two tank tops under my sweater.  The past two days were no exception.

My fashion decisions were not so well thought out, evidently.  Let’s just say that no one wants to buy a bridal gown or prom dress from a sweaty, nauseated consultant who is huffing and puffing to get you into your garments.  Gross.  I also have a hyper-extended wrist from carrying more weight than I should be with one hand, so that also makes work just dandy.  I think the only reason I’ve sold anything the past few days is because of customer pity.

…Get ready–the point is about to be made…

I have come to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter what time of day I take my Clomid, because I am destined to be a disgusting mess for five to seven days whenever I take it.  I sure hope this cycle works, because if Dr. Awesome ups my dosage for next month, it could be disastrous for my April sales commissions.

I was under the impression that March was supposed to come in like a lion, and go out like a lamb.

I have no idea where the sweaty hog fits into that little expression, but that’s how my March is rolling so far.


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