Trophy Wife

July 12, 2014 § Leave a comment

I had a lovely idea of this weekend. My parents have been away, last night at a concert, today to go to apartment viewings with my brother in Toronto. I wanted to have ex boyfriend over to hot tub and swim in the pool and lie on the grass and pick raspberries from our gardens. Wine drinking and sex and nakedness, warm summer air making us sweat, wet hair sticking to our chests and backs.

In my head, of course, I imagine myself thin and bony. In reality I would be covered up during all of this. I’m, instead, drinking wine too early with my coffee and I’m making fucking bacon. I’m really craving meat lately. In honesty, I think it’s because I rarely eat meat, but it still terrifies me that one day I’ll become pregnant.

The last doctor I saw, to discuss my seizure and to schedule my EEG, of course, asked me about birth control. Because there’s none prescribed in my records and I’m almost 24, so obviously I’m having sex I suppose? Birth control, which I’ve only been on once at 17 for a measly three months made me insane. HA, more than I already was. But he scared me talking about condoms being at 70 something percent effective. What happened to the figure in my head of 97%? But with spermicide, it’s as effective as the pill. In Sudbury though, such and such a person was terrified because I was about to get my period and for some reason he thought that made it more likely for me to be pregnant. Which is wrong. I know it’s more unlikely, but not impossible depending on when your fucking egg drops, if it’s early, whatever. I don’t want to start rambling about shit I’ve had to study in the reproductive curriculums of bio and physiology etc etc.

I’m still scared. I’m always scared. I feel my breasts, and I wonder if they feel bigger than they should. I’m mostly losing weight, so that shouldn’t be the reason, so what is it? But of course, I pass it off to paranoia.


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