I was thinking, since it's been so long since i wrote a long, whiney post, it was about time. About time to complain and bitch and moan a little about my sad pathetic life.

This is all said tongue in cheek, of course. I realize quite well that my life is actually quite good. I have the best husband ever. He's better than anyone else's husband and don't you try to convince me otherwise. I go for the jugular. Just as a little warning. So my life is so good. I am a student in good standing (so far) at a major university, I have time to do things like keep a diary, I can cover my bills with a simple little check from my university that comes with predictable regularity. I am lucky enough to be expecting a little baby at the end of may and I am lucky enough to be healthy when so many other people aren't. I have friends and a life outside of work, and I am appreciated and loved by both sides of my family.

But, well, shit. I feel like crap.

In case I haven't mentioned it before, as I was trying to avoid the whiney pathetic posts, I have the world's most painful square inch living about half an inch from my belly button. It starts as an itch every morning and transforms itself to the most horrible stabbing pain every afternoon. By evening, I have to retire to the living room to watch America's Funniest Home Videos. It is not easy being me. This means I have to ration the amount of time I spend standing or sitting upright, and thus I can't really participate in things like meal planning or shopping. Or other normal human activities.

One of those human activities was going for walks. I don't want to gain five million pounds and totally lose any muscle mass I had prior to getting pregnant. But the mysterious square inch prevents me from most exercise. So long, hour at the gym. Sayonara, long walks to Starbucks. Instead, I get to sit on the couch and watch cats falling off counters and bridegrooms passing out at the altar. So, sweets and I have started swimming.

I actually wanted to go swimming more. I even bought myself a pregnancy bathing suit, because I apparently don't have enough embarassing moments in my life as it is. It has always been my dream to spend hours swimming in a college pool, surrounded by hard-body college students who are actually paying their way through an Ivy by swimming. I love being able to brag that I could probably double their weight. it's fun. I swear.

Anyway, it's not that bad. There are also slow people who swim because they have their own version of the mysterious square inch. It's just that sometimes I see myself and think "this in not my body." I can swim comfortably for about twenty minutes and then I am worn out.

This worn out I describe is like nothing I have ever experienced. Even when I was training for a stinking marathon I had more energy. Twenty minutes in the pool ends up being about two days worth of laying on the couch watching mountain bike disasters and children hitting adults in the groin. This worn out even trumps the mysterious square inch for being the worst symptom yet of pregnancy.

As a check in: I have eight weeks left. I have a mysterious square inch that has no great explanation and thus, no cure. I have fatigue worse than any fatigue I have ever experienced in my life. I am still nauseous in the mornings until roughly 11:30. My body aches constantly. I can't sleep. I can't stay asleep because I need to pee and I can't get back to sleep because I can't get comfortable. My shoulders and ears hurt because I can only sleep on my side. All I want to eat is chocolate and french fries. I have deadlines looming and work that is behind already.

this life of mine? pretty dull.

but the good news is that I finally finished that huge grant that I have to get to pay for my education. It went to fed-ex today. I hear back sometime in September. I'm not optimistic. But at least it is DONE.