Emotional Wreckage

Sometime last night I realized that my hormones were acting more like I had PMS. But today, the emotional wreckage really began. It's not really horrible, its just strong mood swings--one minute I'm grinning the embarassing and dopey looking grin and then the next I'm having to kind of talk to myself and coax myself out of meltdowns over simple things...like prenatal vitamins.

Simple. It should be simple, but for me it is not, of course. The day started off with:

I had to wait for the tank pickup so I had to be home by 9am to work at home today. I took Mariela to work because she had to be there by 7am. I came home and got the dog and begged and promised him that it would only take me a moment in the drugstore and not to be friendly to anyone while I was gone. I tied up his leash like a puzzle and RAN in. The ONLY prenatal vitamins I could find...some crazy ass "One a Day" that was actually TWO PILLS and one glowed like it was made of neon or free radicals or somethin' crazy. But, in a panic, I decided that I HAD to have one and HAD to get back to my dog before someone tried to steal him (again).
I rush to the counter, check on Baron through the window, and then realize that the glowing radiation pill also contains fish and SOY. Wait a minute, didn't that lesbian say that "soy can prohibit implantation"--yeah, forget it! If there's one thing I'm trying to do--is to IMPLANT right now!
I get home and think--I'll just have to take one of M's B Complex for today because now I'm stuck waiting for the tank to be picked up! Nope--her's has soy too! WTF?
Then I read a blog by this guy that is my total bicycling hero, about the home birth of his little girl and I was COMPLETELY BALLING and then I'd start laughing at how ridiculous I was and then I'd start crying all over. That's when I knew that something was definitely off with my emotions...
Finally they pick up the tank at 3:30pm! Thank you, I can now leave! I go to Whore Foods to get raped by their extremely high prices and wonderful selection of tinctures. So I decide to look for a prenatal vitamin there...it was fucking madness. ALL of them had SOY and then the last one had PHENELENALANALANINE!! I'm not taking that stuff EVER--even for myself, not to mention a small embryo that doesn't even have a chance to feel the horrible enough effects like diarrhea. Okay, next!
The "natural living" girl shows up and asks me if I'm finding everything okay and I just say "oh yeah thanks" but inside, I'm screaming like Elaine on the subway trying to go to the lesbian wedding. "WHAT the FUCK--I just need a prenatal VITAMIN that doesn't have SOY or POISON!!" I have to admit though...as cool and collected as I normally am about being queer/weird/an artist/poor...I am not really cool about being obviously a dyke that's pregnant, yet. It feels so bizarre to me. I had always planned that Mariela would have our first baby and then I would maybe have the courage. But I'm ready to take it on...when that time comes...but I do have my anxiousness about it. I think the biggest fear is that they will think that I don't realize that I'm a lesbian? Those are the lowest people in the grand scheme of gayness right? I mean, the oblivious homo is not something I want to be scene as...
So it's on to the next drugstore. Walbarf's...I search. I panic. I search some more. THIS ONE HAS SOY. NO that's the NEON PILL! FINALLY!!!! Nature's Breast or whatever...regular old prenatal without soy or any other warnings! One of the others really said "you should consult your physician first if you are pregnant." WTF! It's a prenatal vitamin!!?!?!?
Speaking of barf--I don't think I can go back into that Walbarf's for a long time. I had to cover my whole face to get to the back of the store, where they keep the vitamins. I looked like I was struggling through a burning building with all the sickening, artificial smells...ugh.
The fucking kitchen light burned out...and my ranch dressing which I planned to dip my carrots and cauliflower in have spoiled...and I want to cry about that too--mainly because it is on my plate and everything makes me want to barf.

I called Mariela to tell her about my dramas and she couldn't talk because she was "busy"...I was so (overly) bitter and pissed off. I hung up the phone and just started thinking all sorts of hateful thoughts and then checked myself and shrugged it off...and made a plate of rotten ranch dressing in a dark kitchen.

The checker at Whore Foods, a native american guy, was so cute though (they always are--it's the yuppie customers that drive me batty). He started talking to me about his twin daughters and how they're seniors now and he wants to ring a few boys' necks, blah blah blah! Ha! But why was he telling me? Maybe he can see it on my face. As my friend Joey said..."it's all about attitude--I'm gonna be pregnant, damn it." I believe him. I'm a mess, but this peapod is stickin' with me and I have to just blab about it on here because Mariela's job is driving me crazy and she can't listen to my crap these days. She's extremely excited though...she claims that I look different. Ha!