Oh you people. Talking about living life as though IF/babies weren't a concern. Giving me ideas. You have me thinking about what I have given up for infertility.
Well...not much so far. A few thousand bucks. The ability to act like a normal person around babies. (Keep in mind "normal" is a relative term. Very relative.) That's about it.
I can tell you what I have gained from IF though.
A fat ass. Double Ds. Cankles.
Actually that last one I think I have always had, even when I was skinny. My calves just sort of narrow gradually into my feet. I hate it and have hated it since the boy I was dating (who was a fucking ballet dancer - that should have been my first clue that the sex wasn't worth it. Hm. That makes him sound gay. He wasn't, just an asshole.) asked me "Can't you do something about your calves?"
Keep in mind I was a size 4 at the time. It gave me a terrible complex about my calves that I have to this day. His head would probably explode if he saw me now.
Let me show you - I don't have many picture where my ankles are showing, but I dug up this goofy senior picture from high school. This is about what I looked like until 4 years ago, although my hair changed and I usually wore not so ugly shoes. I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking with this get-up. Or this pose. Um. Or all of it really.
Edit: I zoomed in on the cankles. They are skinny here, but you'll notice, my calf goes directly into my foot. There is no dainty turning in that will catch a man's eye if he glimpses it beneath my skirts.
When we first started ttc, each month I was quite sure that I was pregnant. Every AF symptom suddenly was ascribed to my burgeoning pregnancy. Sore boobs? Pregnant. Pimple? Pregnant. Hungry? Definitely pregnant.
And I wouldn't want to deny my child the food it was demanding, now would I? So I ate. And then when AF finally got there I would be sad. So I ate. And then I felt bad about eating. So I ate. And then I found out there would be no baby without some serious measures and it would be a long time before we coudl afford them. So I ate. A lot.
It doesn't help that A_ used to be a professional pastry chef.
And now I must face the fact that I look like this:
Happy, but fat. And very white.
It hasn't really bothered me that much. I wear my weight well - it has distributed evenly so I still have a waist and everything. But the fact is, it's not healthy. And I didn't realize until I saw a picture of myself from the other night handing out an award how fat I was. I looked like I could eat the poor little guy I am congratulating. (It didn't help that he was only like 5'2.)
So here is my "IF won't stop me from living my life" thing. I am going to get in shape. I am going to stop eating sticks of butter as snacks and collapsing on the couch from the time I get home until I got to bed. I am going to be healthy. So that when it does come time, when I *do* get pregnant, I will be able to eat whatever the baby tells me to.
Cause fat and pregnant is fine by me.
EDIT: Doh. I didn't mean to sounds like I was fishing for compliments . I just wanted to show you how skinny I once was and that I have cankles. I swear to god, I do have cankles. They are just skinny cankles in that picture. Now I have fat cankles.