Day 3 of Clomid: My Head Hurts

I have a headache, the kind that’s not quite bad enough to justify canceling all plans but bad enough so that you mightily resent said plans. That’s the kind of headache I have: not the kind that makes you think you’re having an aneurysm, just the kind that makes you a leetle crabby with everyone you run into.

This is less than ideal, because I’m already pretty darn crabby. If I make it through this cycle without permanently alienating anyone, I’m going to chalk it up as a win, regardless of the outcome, fertility-wise.

My sister said I sound like she did when she was pregnant.

“I was enraged, just all the time,” she said. “The smallest thing would set me off and I’d think, ‘Well, that’s it. Guess I’m going to jail.'”

The worst part is that I’m having a lot of trouble remembering that it’s not OK to just tell people what I think with no filter or punches pulled. For example, today, a friend of mine gchatted me to say that she was mad at Amy Schumer and I immediately typed back: “I am not here for that today. I’m a Clomid crazy-person, and I feel like I will go totally house on you, just for having an opinion I don’t share, and I don’t wanna, so let’s talk about something else.”

Also, I have this headache. I might’ve mentioned.


Image via threephin at Flickr


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