Waxed, washed, worthy.

I've had a comparatively good day today.

Because I've been working from home the last couple of weeks, I've allowed my bruised and battered self to let things slide. A lot.

There were at least two full days last week that I did not get dressed properly or wear a bra. Or even clean my teeth.

I worked only in short spurts, punctuated by languishing sessions watching crap on Fox.tel and having little pity parties reading your blogs, empathising and feeling sorry for myself. I developed quite a taste for soft-boiled eggs with buttered soldiers. And I did not make the bed.

What a sorry sight!

But today I decided I really needed to climb out of my own pit. I refuse to let my infertility take over my life. I have so much to be happy for! I've got a wonderful husband whom I adore, I've just graduated as a doctor and I'm about to move into a new house by the beach. I'm healthy. I have great friends (even though, some of the bastards ARE pregnant).

So I got up early, did the washing, scrubbed the bathroom, tidied the house, found my sexiest set of knickers and picked out a pretty dress for the day. (I must say, I do have a smokin' waist: suffer in your jocks, pregnant ladies). I went and got a bikini and leg wax and got my eyebrows tidied up. I made myself feel pretty, organised, and, most importantly, worthy.

Finally I've decided to do my best to put all those horrible emotions behind me. I'm going to get out there with my chin up, smile, actually BE happy for the pregnant people around me, and enjoy my life. With or without the babies.