soap opera
back in the saddle again

The Mental Has Left

It's been an funny old infertility week. And by funny, I mean unfunny. I feel quite tired by it all, but not in a bad way, more in a floppy with relief way because the JB and I are now definitely in truce. I was glad of your comments, which made me see all this is normal, really, given the circumstances. And next time he is charging rhino-like, he advised me to tell him firmly:

JB! The Mental Has Come.

This is the magic phrase apparently. We'll see how it works.

No other news, much. I went for my medical (as per adoption process). The doctor measured me around the girth with that tape they use to deflate your ego find out if you need to lose any weight. My BMI was fine, but this tape thing was not fine. (34? whatever that is). And apparently medical professionals laugh at the BMI system. (Yes. Can't you just imagine them at cocktail parties, hooting away at BMI jokes?)

So I must keep going to gym, where I have been going, as per New Year's Resolution, but mysteriously seem to be getting less fit with time, and more like a over-heated puff fish.

The doctor ticked her way through the rest of the form, inquiring after my mental health. I tried my best to look sane. (Trying itself makes you feel a bit mad though, do you agree? The equivalent of the Policeman Syndrome, where you automatically feel all illegal in the presence of one.)  I must have passed that test, because she summed me up as having a pleasant personality and always seeming to be in a good mood.
Oh, me? Yes, yes. Good mood! Stable, not kray-ZEE at all!
You have to be careful how you word it, she told me. Inoffensive is apparently the way to go.

Still working on animating Smokey, though this week hasn't been the most productive. He needs some corrections and in-betweens. More on this later. I did do a few colour sketches in a half-arsed kind of way, too:


Next week, next week. Next week will be the one.

Till then, I wish you all a good night/evening/day, wherever you may be.



A magic phrase sounds delightful! I hope it works.


or the week after... Truce sounds better than battle. And makes me realise that peace may not be so easy to achieve.
I love how Smokey seems to ponder his inner peace while the sky cries around him.

Is the adoption proces also likened to a train thundering through your lifes? jumping through hoops? and never knowing what comes next?
Wait, did the tape-waist thing say you need to loose weight? and/or inches/centimeters?
34 sounds like bra size, or jeans maybe.
whatever happens, there is always next week.
Hugs, x

Womb For Improvement

Ahh, the safe phrase. Like it.

Run, Smokey, run.


Wait, there's a magic phrase? I must investigate this further.

I was once searched by a policeman. He made some joke about the fact I had knitting needles in my bag, and I was all ha ha ha officer, very droll (ARGH THEY'RE ARRESTING ME FOR BEING ARMED).

(Christmas and bed-rest and comfort-eating has done something appalling to my waist. I can't find the tape-measure to check - I think it has hidden in dread. I'd be quite grateful if it was 34" at this point).


Thank you all.
Valery, I am befuddled by the tape thing. Tried to find it on the internet, but couldn't. So.
?? still.
I am to lose 2 inches, I think. What fun.

Haha! I love it, May - the police finding your weapons. Brilliant vignette.

A bit of comfort-eating is totally normal and human, don't you think? I reckon I'd be at the gin, myself. A few pounds? Paffouey!


Excellent phrase! I wish I could pull it off, but I think it just doesn't work in American. I've always wondered if Policeman Syndrome is universal or if it only happens to people who have broken the law (even if only in very mild ways). Smokey's looking lovely.

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