is you don’t talk about it. duh. but let’s talk about it.
i watched the fight on saturday. what i saw was, well… a lot of dancing. and not as much face-punching as i would’ve liked. and the end, well… disappointing. maybe some filipino karaoke would’ve left a better taste in my mouth? maybe i needed to see more jimmy kimmel channeling Run DMC. but seeing these two men try to beat the snot out of each other really made me think of edward norton and brad pitt in that dark and distorted but can’t-keep-your-eyes-off-it movie Fight Club. oh brad. oh dear. seriously the hottest he has ever looked, amiright. but i digress. there was more legit face punching in that movie than what i saw this weekend.
i feel like i am in a face-punching battle extraordinaire. i am edward norton, fighting myself. my own body. i have my ultrasound tomorrow. it is at THIS exact ultrasound i have repeatedly been cancelled because my body can’t follow the simple rules of this fight club. rule #1: do not make dominant follicles. i’ve been KO’d twice in this round already. no pressure. how am i holding up you ask? pssh. on the outside i am totally cool, calm, and collected. i got this. and on the inside i am a supernova of nerves. i am a black hole of anxiety.
i am jack’s cold sweat.
i haven’t forgotten that this cycle has started out looking REALLY good. i came out swinging. but the stakes are high, and i have my gloves up, ready for the next blow. by now you see i’m all about self-preservation. i expect the worst. that way if it doesn’t actually happen, i am pleasantly surprised. but let’s be honest.
i am jack’s complete lack of surprise.
oh and mother’s day is coming up. 6 days. i can’t even. can we just skip that day. bittersweet doesn’t come close to explaining the dichotomy of emotion, all the feels that will come out on sunday. don’t get me wrong. i’m all about celebrating mothers and motherhood, in all its beautiful and broken shapes and sizes. they are the most selfless people on this world, and deserve to be lavished with love and appreciated. but the feels. they are just too much. face punch.
i am jack’s broken heart.
i just want this to happen. i want it so bad i can taste it. it has to be my turn one of these days. i mean, odds, right? after losing five babies, i get to finally take one home, right? all this hard work, the blood, the sweat and tears,… will be worth it. it will, right?
it’s only after we’ve lost everything, that we can do anything. thanks brad, i think i’ll make this my new mantra.