Day 10 sugar cravings 2.0. I blame the 50 half children in my ovaries. I tended to their needs like any mother would… with salted caramel buttered popcorn macarons.
I took this photo while I was perving on all the sparkly spangly things at my photo shoot for Cosmo on October 14. Sadly none of them were meant for me so I just drooled and fantasised about being a modern bridal-wear model dripping in sequins and fluffed with fur coats while I sat on the couch waiting until it was my go. (There was a real model before me which pissed me off royally because I knew I’d look like even more of a dick trying incredibly hard to look totally natural. Bitch.)
Time for makeup. I was very excited to see what I’d be styled in and how many different outfits I’d get to try which is hilarious in hindsight because I was given a plain white singlet to throw on for a single head-shot. What a dick. Thinking I was gonna get some sort of fashion spread like I was Kate bloody Moss or something HA! I’m still baffled by my unbridled self-indulgence in that moment – what on earth was I thinking? As I had one squinty eye on the model pose pose posing while my hot pink lippy was applied and my eyebrows were coloured in, I watched my glossy 6-page-spread vision droop and deflate like a sad penis on a cold day.
Here’s a quick video of me doing one of my daily injections for egg freezing. Every day I get more and more confident and I can do it quicker each time. It helps that I’ve never been afraid of needles and like a challenge. I reckon day after tomorrow I’ll be shooting up so fast you’ll be eating your brekkie and think you saw a lightning bolt at the other end of kitchen table but it’ll just be me. With my ninja shooting up skillz. A flash before your eyes. Cap off, needle on, wind it up, bang it in, yank it out, sharps bin shut, all before you can say “eggs benedict”.
I don’t what I was thinking trying to G myself up to go out last night – I was in absolutely no fit state. Not even close. I was so tired and nauseous I could barely speak. I was like that all day but typical Syl, I seriously believed I’d simply snap out of it just in time. Regardless of what condition I’m in, I tend to have this vision of myself making a miraculous recovery where I look at the clock when it’s time to get ready (for going out, for uni assignment, for whatever it is) and leap out of bed still wearing my trackies and hoodie but suddenly feeling fantastic. Then I do a kind of ‘Genie in the bottle from Aladdin’ twirl which magically sprinkles on my makeup, poofs up and slicks back my hair, kits me out head to toe and sends me flying out the door in 2 seconds. It’s amazing. And delusional. Total denial.
You can see in this photo how swollen my belly is getting from all these injections and growing follicles…
I cannot even count the number of ex-boyfriends and phallic symbols or just blatant dicks in my dreams last night. (they came in many forms; dickheads, several dildos, people being dicks, actual dicks) Jesus Christ! (he isn’t a dick and did not appear in my dream) I actually woke up feeling a little embarrassed to be sleeping with myself like “woahh chill out girl!” When I got a glimpse of my reflection in my bedroom mirror my face was priceless – like I’d just been caught red-handed, mid-act doing something naughty. Except I’d been caught by myself. And it was just a dream… But dreams are rarely literal and I know that with a tiny bit of unpacking, it will be glaringly obvious what all the phallic stuff was for. Even as I type this it’s just so clear… hormones, the uncomfortable internal ultrasounds at Genea every few days with that cold, lubed up, phallic probe, creating potential new life in the most unnatural way possible – without a penis or sperm, all the “partner not applicable” sections I’ve had to scribble over forms, doing a (typically) couples thing on my own as a single 23 year old, making 50% of a baby in this clinical, unsexy environment, and yes sure my sex drive is in over drive … dozens of reasons.
Sooo I’m up to Week 4 of @kayla_itsines training guide. Hard to tell if I look that different and no idea if I’ve lost weight because I don’t weigh myself. Chucked my scales out 2 years ago. Don’t really care about a number on a screen (anymore. I did when I was younger and it was dangerously addictive, damaging and incredibly consuming). But I feel so much stronger, healthier, energised and most amazingly – I seem to be in Endo pain remission.
This morning I had my first ultrasound (and a blood test) at Genea. Despite being an internal ultrasound, (if you’ve never had one before you pretty much lie there looking at a screen where you can see all your reproductive organs in black and white while a lovely woman gently pokes around your insides with a huge lubricated, cylindrical, dildo-looking thing that has x-ray vision. It’s pretty amazing) it was totally fine. No discomfort, no pain. And fascinating!