Happy Christmas?
I stuck 23 stickers for 'The Advent Calendar Inside Steve's Head especially for Jo' on Christmas Eve. At Tooting Bec, the magic tube station.
I'd been keeping up with my stickering plan despite the removal of my tube station poster after 5 days. But on the 20th the poster was replaced again - and this time I only had one replacement sticker in my bag to get started with again. So I stuck my sticker of 'a piece of sellotape on the edge of something,' then felt daunted by the thought of making 23 more stickers in the busy days leading up to Christmas.
I also noticed graffiti on the special poster (two from the end on the Northbound platform,) but it didn't make much sense to me. It just said, 'WAKEUPORDIE.COM(!)'
Even when I briefly glanced at the website it made little sense. And I didn't like that it was on my poster for Steve, so I decided to ignore it.
I somehow found the time to make the stickers, to make Steve's advent calendar real. As I quickly drew I cursed Steve's complex images like, 'Santa on the top of the London Eye having a cigarette' and, 'Boy refusing the offer of more food.' But it felt very good when I'd done it. Steve appreciated it, and he loudly told me he loved me, when he met me in Bennett's non-corner corner shop after he'd seen the advent calendar poster for the first time. Special Christmas Magic!
Hmm, perhaps I should tell you about more Christmas magic?
Well... My period was late.
On Christmas Eve (look away now if you embarrass easily) my breasts did a strange nipple-ache thing, a feeling exactly the same as one I'd had when I'd been pregnant with Amy.
By Christmas Day the funny feeling was still there. All my alternative explanations for this funny feeling had relied on it going away...
After putting Amy to bed on Boxing Day Steve drove me to a 24 hour Chemist in Streatham. We bought a pregnancy test - whilst watched by a gang of cuddly toy tigers, on the other side of the aisle...
I said we 'drove' to Streatham? Well, Steve has a new car! Must tell him to update his blog so you know this important stuff... The car is red. We were a bit disappointed about the colour. His Grandad was getting rid of it, it was very cheap. It's good having a car. Although we spent an entire Amy-free night stuck in traffic when we'd hoped to go Christmas shopping in Bluewater.
So... Pregnancy test?
We went back to Steve's Streatham room, and I did the peeing on the stick thing. And then we waited 3 minutes...
I think I need to explain that I do use reliable birth control. That's why I was convinced that it was impossible that there'd be 2 lines for, 'Yes, you're pregnant!' Even though my body seemed to scream, 'You're pregnant' at me all day long. I simply felt pregnant. Being pregnant is a magic thing. And I like to think I know magic.
Do you know anybody who's ever got pregnant while taking the pill? Someone who's on the contraceptive pill, and taking it very carefully every day?
Well, I don't take the pill. Instead I have an IUD. It used to be called, 'the coil.' I remember my Sex Ed teacher calling it that, and thinking, 'That sounds painful!'
An IUD is like a bit of copper barbed wire that sits inside your womb and repels sperm and eggs that might want to settle there. It's one of the safest and best forms of contraception available. If 100 women use it for a year then just 0.5 women will get pregnant. (I won't make any jokes debating how half a woman could get pregnant, or even a whole woman getting 'half pregnant'?) That kind of statistic means it is equaled (but not bested) by the pill for reliability.
So of course I couldn't be pregnant!
Of course we looked at the little white stick and there were two lines! Two lines equaled pregnant.
'Fuck!' Steve and I both shouted together. (And Steve doesn't swear much!)
We both burst out laughing next. I suppose it was comical that our life had just taken such a bizarre twist.
And there I'll leave you for now. I watched too many soaps over Christmas. My Mum likes soaps. My life feels like a soap opera sometimes.. So this can be the cliffhanger ending. What happens next...?
Do yourself Eastenders or Coronation Street music. I don't mind.
I call this soap, 'Tooting Bec.'
I'd been keeping up with my stickering plan despite the removal of my tube station poster after 5 days. But on the 20th the poster was replaced again - and this time I only had one replacement sticker in my bag to get started with again. So I stuck my sticker of 'a piece of sellotape on the edge of something,' then felt daunted by the thought of making 23 more stickers in the busy days leading up to Christmas.
I also noticed graffiti on the special poster (two from the end on the Northbound platform,) but it didn't make much sense to me. It just said, 'WAKEUPORDIE.COM(!)'
Even when I briefly glanced at the website it made little sense. And I didn't like that it was on my poster for Steve, so I decided to ignore it.
I somehow found the time to make the stickers, to make Steve's advent calendar real. As I quickly drew I cursed Steve's complex images like, 'Santa on the top of the London Eye having a cigarette' and, 'Boy refusing the offer of more food.' But it felt very good when I'd done it. Steve appreciated it, and he loudly told me he loved me, when he met me in Bennett's non-corner corner shop after he'd seen the advent calendar poster for the first time. Special Christmas Magic!
Hmm, perhaps I should tell you about more Christmas magic?
Well... My period was late.
On Christmas Eve (look away now if you embarrass easily) my breasts did a strange nipple-ache thing, a feeling exactly the same as one I'd had when I'd been pregnant with Amy.
By Christmas Day the funny feeling was still there. All my alternative explanations for this funny feeling had relied on it going away...
After putting Amy to bed on Boxing Day Steve drove me to a 24 hour Chemist in Streatham. We bought a pregnancy test - whilst watched by a gang of cuddly toy tigers, on the other side of the aisle...
I said we 'drove' to Streatham? Well, Steve has a new car! Must tell him to update his blog so you know this important stuff... The car is red. We were a bit disappointed about the colour. His Grandad was getting rid of it, it was very cheap. It's good having a car. Although we spent an entire Amy-free night stuck in traffic when we'd hoped to go Christmas shopping in Bluewater.
So... Pregnancy test?
We went back to Steve's Streatham room, and I did the peeing on the stick thing. And then we waited 3 minutes...
I think I need to explain that I do use reliable birth control. That's why I was convinced that it was impossible that there'd be 2 lines for, 'Yes, you're pregnant!' Even though my body seemed to scream, 'You're pregnant' at me all day long. I simply felt pregnant. Being pregnant is a magic thing. And I like to think I know magic.
Do you know anybody who's ever got pregnant while taking the pill? Someone who's on the contraceptive pill, and taking it very carefully every day?
Well, I don't take the pill. Instead I have an IUD. It used to be called, 'the coil.' I remember my Sex Ed teacher calling it that, and thinking, 'That sounds painful!'
An IUD is like a bit of copper barbed wire that sits inside your womb and repels sperm and eggs that might want to settle there. It's one of the safest and best forms of contraception available. If 100 women use it for a year then just 0.5 women will get pregnant. (I won't make any jokes debating how half a woman could get pregnant, or even a whole woman getting 'half pregnant'?) That kind of statistic means it is equaled (but not bested) by the pill for reliability.
So of course I couldn't be pregnant!
Of course we looked at the little white stick and there were two lines! Two lines equaled pregnant.
'Fuck!' Steve and I both shouted together. (And Steve doesn't swear much!)
We both burst out laughing next. I suppose it was comical that our life had just taken such a bizarre twist.
And there I'll leave you for now. I watched too many soaps over Christmas. My Mum likes soaps. My life feels like a soap opera sometimes.. So this can be the cliffhanger ending. What happens next...?
Do yourself Eastenders or Coronation Street music. I don't mind.
I call this soap, 'Tooting Bec.'
posted by Jo at 4:52 PM
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