I've gotten a lot of grief from blog readers, friends and family that I haven't provided any updates on my hair since my dramatic post a month ago about my hair. The good news is that you were right: the toner did fade after a few vigorous washings and some time in the sun. I no longer lood like Loretta Lynn. And I still don't and never will look like Pamela Anderson...my lips are too thin. Still, I'd be happy for a bit more lightness around my face, more like Sarah Jessica Parker, which I have been told I resemble, especially in her curly days. (it's the hair and her face; we both have that long, horsey face)
In any case, I'm going to wait and go to a bargain option at a local upscale salon and chose their "mantra" option, basically newbie stylists who will die my hair purple, I mean, highlight it the way I want, once I'm past the first trimester.
Ok. So just even writing that makes me start to hyperventiliate. No, there is no miraculous, money saving news I have to post here about being pregnant. I'm on too much medication for any slip up to occur. Instead, I'm freaking out because everything is going to go down next week. They've had me on drugs to stop everything for a month and now they are starting to ramp things up again.
AHHHHHHHHH!
It does freak me out.
Things are looking better this cycle. The antral follicle (resting egg count) count is higher. They have me on my auto-immune drugs now, which the other clinic waited until after retrieval to start. Stims are starting.
It's been a little weird to see how different the protocols are for each clinic. They are not massively different; that is, one clinic isn't calling for new meds while the other sacrifices goats. Still, it's clear that ART is more of an art than a science. I'm hoping we're heading to the "Monet" clinic, which we're hoping is just a little bit more successful than Cassat.
Oh, speaking of art and how my feet are not pretty, I went back to my podiatrist last week because my feet are about to fall off. Despite having my new orthotics, my poor left foot is miserable. I cannot wear much beyond my sneakers (I look so pretty in a dress now! Sassy!!! ) and I have not been able to run because my foot hurts so much.
He is designing new orthotics for me, even dressy ones that might let me wear less hideous shoes. But the goal is for me to have the surgery as soon as I can, after (hopefully) this next pregnancy. It's obvious that it's getting worse and we need to correct it. Otherwise, I'm not sure I'll even be able to walk in a few years time.
OK. Now you're up to date on me from head to toe, which a nice detour around the middle sections. Fingers crossed that everything turns out the way it's supposed to over these next few weeks.
2 comments:
Fingers, toes, antlers...I'm a tangled mess of extremities here on your behalf, Anita! Glad the hair crisis is working itself out. But the foot thing, oh my! Since you'll (cough) be taking yourself out of the running (cough, cough) as an athlete when you get knocked up this time (for the duration, I mean) it sounds like your timing might be good to give those hooves a rest until you can get them fixed afterwords. Poor little doggies.
Goodest of luck with the cycle stuff! I will admit to not having anything remotely close to full comprehension of what you are going through with all this, but it sounds tricky, and serious...and highly hopeful!
Who's the woman writing on the reporter's notebook? That's not the Parker person.
Is it a Freudian slip or what: "die my hair"?
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