Freakundity

fre KUN dit ee, n., the horrible, heart-stopping realization that you may be pregnant
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DH casually mentioned the other morning that he was feeling a bit off. "Hm, weird," said he, "I feel a little dizzy today. Maybe I'll drink some extra water." Once the water was down the hatch, he proceeded to carry on with his day as if nothing had ever happened.

He felt dizzy. In the morning. And it was no big deal.

I had to sit down for a moment to fully allow my brain to grasp the joy and peace that clearly is life without a uterus.

If I feel dizzy in the morning, the automatic logical leap is that ohmigawdmylifeisoverIamfuckingpregnantagain. This also applies to headachy in the afternoon. Or nauseous in the evening. Or at unprescribed random intervals, just to keep me on my toes. Aunt Flo a day late? Might as well start buying diapers. Gas bubble in the gut? Surely must be a baby kicking (never mind how I got to be four months pregnant without previously noticing).

The point is, everything in a woman's life points toward pregnancy. I can never be casually nauseous, offhandedly dizzy, coolly "a little late". Pregnancy is lurking behind every corner, waiting to jump out and deface me with yet more stretch marks.

If it can find anywhere that doesn't already have some.

Admittedly, the extreme paranoia may hearken back to my old pot-smoking days, but the first step is admitting I have a problem, right? I find meditation helpful in dealing with my myriad anxiety-related issues, and have perfected a bit of a mantra that assists me in finding my centre - balancing my life - shutting up my inner voices. You can borrow it if you like. Goes something like this:

Incision. Clip, tie and cauterize. It's like a Tupperware seal in there.
They can't get out.
They can't get out.
They can't get out.

Repeat as necessary. Vasectomies are da bomb.