I vow to only talk about infertility here. That is correct, my vow for this blog and every single entry within it is to stay on the topic of infertility and not to stray off that path. No what we did over the weekend, no cute stories about our dogs, and no talk about work (though I did almost get the crap beat out of me this morning at work. The guy even had to be escorted out of the building by security.) That is correct, only infertility. And all the gooey details about that. I give myself permission to hide every detail that could be a clue about the real life me; my name, where I live, where I work, what I do, everything. Trust me, it is a fair exchange. If you are reading this blog, all you probably really care about is the infertility stuff anyway.
And just when I was starting to wonder if I was going to be able to maintain my vow to make this blog entirely about infertility, life keeps handing me material to work with.
Hubby and I had a nice cozy evening around the fire pit yesterday. I told him my fascinating theories about the Dumpling. He made the comment that I am hyper sensitive about all things fertility, pregnancy, and baby right now. That I see, notice, and feel the abundance of fertility around me so much more so now because I am struggling with infertility myself. I don't disagree but it sure does feel like the whole world is pregnant or talking about babies. Lunch today was a perfect example of I'm not fertility crazy, everyone else is.
I was craving chicken tenders from this little deli a couple of blocks down from my work. They make the best chicken tenders. Large sized, even thin breading, moist melt in your mouth chicken. The best chicken tenders EVER. The honey mustard sauce that comes with them is just as dreamy too. Add an order of sweet potato fries and you have got one to-die-for lunch.
So I made the hike down to the deli, dreaming of the chicken tenders the whole way. I get to the deli and up to the counter and place my order. I make casual conversation with the lady running the register. I tell her, as a compliment to the deli's culinary talents, that "I am just craving these chicken tenders. They are the best ever."
Can anybody guess what she said next?
Wait for it. . .
Wait for it. . .
You guessed it! "Are you pregnant?"
Through the instant battling emotions of pain due to my empty womb and the shock & horror that I look fat enough to be pregnant, I replied "No, but maybe I need to change my order to a salad." The lady quickly picked up on the second emotion warring inside me and explained that a lot of pregnant women crave the chicken tenders and come in for them through out their pregnancies and no I didn't look that fat. I just smiled and nodded.
My fat butt and aching heart stepped aside to wait for my order to come up. But really I was no longer hungry. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. With only my drink in hand, I decided to cut my losses and run out on the rest of my order. As I was making my break for the door, the lady called me back to give me my chicken tenders , hot off the grill. I walked around outside for a few minutes lecturing myself out of my funk, carrying my warm to the touch box of chicken tenders. I finally sat down at an outdoor table and ate my, then cooled, chicken tenders. They weren't quite as good as I remembered.