"Not Pregnant" Phew.
Now, before you get all, "OMG! Pregnancy test? What are you DOING?!" on me, shoosh. I don't think I actually thought I was pregnant. I was just sort of missing my period. I mean, it sort of dwindled this month to non-existence.
And what else does a 26-year-old girl do when her period goes AWOL? She hits the Internet. I think I gave myself an Internet pregnancy. Because when you Google things like, "period is too light" and "pregnancy symptoms" and "OMG shoot me now," you discover a scary wealth of knowledge. It's never a good idea to do an Internet search of any sort of illness symptoms, because next thing you know, you think you have cancer.
Me? I decided I was pregnant. It seemed rational.
The next rational step I took was the walk of shame to the grocery store to purchase a $9 Roundy's brand pregnancy test. I considered also picking up a magazine, maybe a candy bar, to mask the fact that I WAS BUYING A PREGNANCY TEST at 8 p.m. on a Thursday, but I sucked it up and handed it over to the 17-year-old cashier. He judged me, I know it.
This is where my night gets a little irrational. I scooped up my Pick N Save bag, pregnancy test safely tucked inside, and rounded the corner to the bar to meet the girls. The bar. With a pregnancy test.
What? Free vodka drinks on Thursdays for ladies. Sue me.
I plopped the bag on the table in front of us and told them I wasn't leaving until I had to pee. Down went vodka cranberries number one and two. And up went my nerves. I shifted in my seat a little and joked that, "Hey! With a baby I can go on welfare!" but it didn't make me feel much better. So instead I just willed my period to miraculously appear as I sat at the bar.
After an hour I bid the girls farewell, they wished me luck, and I resumed the walk of shame back to my apartment. This time with a pregnancy test and a slight tingle in my legs from the vodka.
I swung open the apartment door, greeted the cats and provided commentary of my actions.
"Heeey Harley. Mama's going to take a PREGNANCY TEST now! Think we can fit a baby in this studio, too?"
I stared at the directions for a good eight minutes before I decided pregnancy tests are really far too complicated for a woman who lives alone in her studio with two cats and a bike parked in the kitchen.
I didn't feel like peeing directly on the stick was the way to go. Besides, what if I missed? So I chose the alternate method - pee in a cup and dip the stick. I rummaged through the kitchen for a Dixie cup to no avail, so grabbed the next best thing - a coffee cup. (Note to guests: don't drink coffee at Krista's place).
The scene was a little ludicrous. Pants around my ankles, coffee mug in one hand, pregnancy test in the other, and Harley turning somersaults in the bathroom sink for entertainment.
Three minutes is a long time.
I paced. Talked to Chicken. Watched Olympics. Ran a half mile (not really). And all of a sudden there it was: Not Pregnant.
THANK YOU, JESUS.
I quickly pretended I wasn't actually nervous and scoffed at the box of tampons under the sink. Pft, periods. Who needs 'em, anyway?
In the end, I guess it's a very good thing I wasn't pregnant. I don't think the fetus takes too well to vodka. But like I said, I never believed I was pregnant, anyway. Just took the test for peace of mind. You know.
:: wipes sweat from brow ::