Status Update.

Someone I revealed this blog to yesterday commented that over the 2 months it's been around, I appear to have now dealt with some of the crap things that were going on a while back. She thought that since my later posts have been a bit lighter hearted than those at the start, that things must be a lot “better”.

That’s funny for two reasons.

One, because there is NOTHING light about me.

Except maybe my ankles. And that’s only a maybe.

And two, because I feel more depressed now than I did weeks ago.

I’m at the fattest I have been for a long time. So fat that even my fat jeans don’t fit me anymore.

I got rejected for two jobs this week.

True, I did get offered one that was much better than either of the other two, and I picked up some new consultancy work, and we are in the due diligence process for buying a well known business so I can’t really get a job anyway, but rejection is still rejection. And rejection always hurts.

S and I haven’t spoken about the baby for a few weeks so I think that means he’s forgotten it.

He thinks that means I don’t want to talk about it.

The reality is that’s all I want to talk about. How pregnant I would have been now, how excited we all would have been, what we would have called it (remember his grandmother was Fanny so we needed plenty of time to discuss it), how fat I would have been and what colour we would have painted the nursery.

Instead the nursery is now my new office. And while it’s sunny and has great light and I love working from here, every day I think about what could have been in this very room and cry (and eat) a bit more.

My friend is right in one way though - blogging has definitely been therapeutic.

And it’s kept me away from daytime TV.

But I’m still as crazy as a run-over dog.

And I definitely should still not be a hooker.