13%

So.

This weekend I did that crazy lady-who-wants-a-baby thing where I bought pregnancy test after pregnancy test and kept peeing on a stick over and over again until one said I was pregnant.

It did.

I believe that I just proved, conclusively, that you can will yourself into being pregnant. I know a lot of people pray about this kind of stuff. But I hadn't reached the point of desperation where I was ready to make a deal with the G-evil. I was able to conceive simply by taking multiple pregnancy tests, until I got the results that I wanted.

I plan to write a book on this subject, because I'm sure that there are many women out there who would like to know about this new, foolproof system. I could be rich. Which is good, because I'm going to need the money.

Because I'm gonna be a MILF.

Pee Stick

Today I peed on a stick and found out that I am not pregnant. The feeling is somewhat like having an SUV roll onto my chest.

I start to think to myself “Maybe it hasn’t been two minutes.” So then I go look at a clock and start timing a new two minutes. As if it will be any different than the old two minutes.

It isn’t.

I read the package. I wonder if I’m part of the 13% of tests that could be wrong.

(I’m not.)

I go take a walk where I start to cry. But every month there is no time to cry, because I need to figure out what to do now. Which approach, which medicine, which bank account.

Before I can do that, I start thinking about all the people and things (work) in my life that irritate me. All the incompetence, all the shortcomings. It’s a crafty little trick that my brain has mastered.

I get worked up, and the SUV turns into an 18-wheeler.

All of that is easier than thinking about the truth.