Me: Heya Nick! Guess what!! Guess who's pregnant!

Nick: You never are, are ya? That's great!

Me: Thanks!!!

Nick: Yeah I had a vasectomy yesterday...

(here follows 5 minutes of graphic details...)

Cos, um, like, what the fuck? And I'm supposed to care? And did you not hear what I just said?? GOD DAMMIT??

Oh wait, hold on -

Due Date: 01/08/2008
Week: 9+5 days
Month: 3
Trimester: 1
Fetus Age: 8 weeks

Time To Go:
Due Date: 211 days
2nd Trimester: 15 days
UltraScan: 12 hours (YEEEEAAAH baby)

And my other grief is people who just won't leave me the fuck alone because I'm not ready to tell you yet because it's MY NEWS AND I KNOW THE WORLD WILL KNOW BEFORE I'VE EVEN. FINISHED. TELLING. YOU. None of your damn business, tell you when I'm damn near good and ready. Though you've probably told everyone anyway. Damnit.

As I lay in bed last night, at 2am, listening to DH snore downstairs on the sofa and feeling resentful that I couldn't sleep because those snores haunt me in a sleeping and waking life, I wondered what would happen if I put a pillow over DH's head. Then I laughed about it and told him this morning. He laughed too. All be it nervously. I thought it was funny.

So, Cornwall tomorrow, and lord it's long overdue. I'm so looking forward to seeing Phil and spending an obscene amount of time on the beach, not thinking about the suckage that is work. Cos I sill haven't heard from them and so of course they still suck. But not people at my level of course though (yes, us scrutters who deserve nothing). Well, I heard from J-Po and he's still lovely as ever. But he's the only one that knows (I hope). Haven't heard from anyone else though. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing. Oddly enough, I'm slightly bitter about it. But that's because I'm thinking they just dont care, when I'm not even sure that I want them to. Or maybe they're not supposed to contact me or something. Or maybe the ice-cream I just ate made me feel sick and now all I want is my salt and vinegar (chipsticks? Yes please).

Anyway, Cornwall. Oh yeh. I packed a bikini. Cos I'm obviously gonna wear it on the beach, sporting my obscene bloatedness.

Scene - On the beach
DH: Hey babe you look great in that bikini.

Me: yeh, don't feel great, but thanks. My boobs totally make the top look fucking ace.


DH: ...

Me: I'll be right back.

Still only gained a pound though, and gone up two cupsizes (now in E cup) so shove THAT up yer skinny ass crotches.

Oh yeh and U/S too. That still hasn't actually sunk in yet, so at the moment I'm still fretting about whether I'll have enough piss in my bladder for them to prod at and make it totally worth our while. We (only just) heard the heartbeat today. Mostly because I've been pissing every thirty minutes as a result of..well, the freaking obvious. I'm not even convinced that seeing a pic will bring it home. And I'm guessing all I'll see is a little fuzzy blob (baby). With a big gaping blob (bladder). And maybe some squiggly blobs (umbilical cord, limbs).

But I am happy. Really.