I love my boobs. I really do. They're not big at all, just about an A cup. They don't get in the way of me running, horseback riding, and don't give me back aches like the big-chested gals. And unlike most of my girlfriends who have had babies and complain about saggy or deflated boobs, mine are still quite perky (see there is a benefit to not giving birth, after all).
However, the one reason they drive me crazy is when they fake me out by giving me some slight glimmer of hope that I'm pregnant. They don't hurt every month just before AF, only occasionally, and it's those times where I question my infertility and think that maybe this time the sperm and egg were able to meet.
This happened recently to a good friend of mine, too, who is also a fellow infertile. She said her boobs were super sore, and thought that was the tell-tale sign that she might be pregnant, but it wasn't to be.
What gives, tatas?
Sorry for being such a delinquent blogger. I will probably not be updating too frequently between now and the beginning of Nov as we're getting ready for our move and my trip to Vietnam, but I will try, even if they're for short little bits of funniness or irony through this crazy life with infertility.