Showers and nasty surprises

I just got back from my friend K.'s baby shower. I used to loathe baby showers with a passion, because it was a reminder that it wasn't my shower. Especially as I've pretty much given up on the idea of ever having a bridal shower, the baby shower took on greater importance. I used to be eaten up with jealousy and sadness because it wasn't me in the spotlight. Now I don't mind them so much, as I know (hope) one day it WILL be my turn. And maybe I'll have twins because I'm doing IVF so it'll be twice as good. And it'll be so much sweeter because of all the pain and heartache along the way. So the last couple of showers I've been to, I've actually enjoyed.

However, this baby shower was a little different. Before I even got in the front door, K. wanted to know ALL about the drunken evening I'd had on Friday. Apparently P. had called her at midnight, asking for the security code for the women's bathrooms at work because he thought I was in there puking. Yes, she works with me too, but dude, she's 32 weeks pregnant, you don't call her at midnight! Luckily, her husband was out of town, but K. had told pretty much everyone else that was going to the shower about the midnight phone call. So I was instantly infamous, and had to tell the entire sordid story to the assembled crowd. And then K. dropped the bombshell that P. had taken a photo of me with his camera phone while I was puking, and had sent it to her. At least, he'd told her he sent it to her, but it wasn't on her phone. Presumably he sent it to her work email address. So now everyone will have fun on Monday morning looking at an incriminating photo of me.

Now that's beyond the pale! I mean, I'm an adult, I have to take responsibility for my own actions, but honestly any other friend would have not let me drink as much, and would certainly not have egged me on as P. did. But then to take a photo? He is so not in my good books today!

Oh well, let that be a sobering lesson to me that at nearly 38 it most definitely is not dignified to get wasted and blow chunks in the work kitchen sink.

So that's it. I can never ever do that again. OK, I've said it before (many times), but honestly, at my age? Drinking that much is criminal. Most people have maybe one story of the time they got hammered and can't remember some of the evening. I probably have 20. It's not big, and it's not clever. However, I have been pondering today just exactly why I felt the need to get drunk 3 times in the last week. I mean, I wasn't this bad the first couple of weeks after the BFN from the failed IVF cycle. I cried, I wailed, I moped, I had a glass or two of wine, nothing major. I thought I was dealing with it. And yet suddenly I seem to have fallen apart in the self control department. Is it because the next cycle is approaching? Is it because I didn't really deal with the bad feelings at all, but repressed them? Is it because I repress everything, and sometimes need to let loose? Is it because I'm a lush? Have an addictive personality? I honestly don't know. But I'm never going to find out if I jump straight into a bottle every time I want to have "fun", so I need to figure this out somehow. And my kidneys hurt, which is never good. Man, the acupuncturist is going to be annoyed with me!

In other news, Aunt Flo has come to visit, so tomorrow morning I have to get up early, go down to the RE's office for my day 2 ultrasound and pick up my prescription for birth control pills, which I will be on for the next six weeks. Six weeks is enough time to unpickle my liver, right?