In college, I had a few occasions to buy pregnancy tests. Two of those times were for me.
Back then, I didn’t realize that my periods had a mind of their own. Late periods were cause for concern when I was in college… major concern, let’s be honest.
Today, I bought another box of pregnancy tests. What? Don’t look at me that way. I know there’s less than a half percent chance of working this out on our own, but I’m laaaaaaate. And I’m just crazy enough to think that maybe I’m pregnant. (Omigawd, the sore boobs are killing me. K tried to grab one, as he does, and I thought he had nearly bit off my nipple. Sensitivity be damned!)
The difference between a college purchase and the one this afternoon? I’m proud of it. No covert sneaking to the pharmacy in the back, eyes down, hoping not to run into anyone I know. No, ma’am. This time, I held my blue and pink box and took it to the front. I even reminded the check-out girl about a coupon. I didn’t even need a bag. I’m married, I’m older, I’ve got a good job. I walked out, holding my hope – and realized the difference in ten years.
And now, I’m too nervous to test. Go figure.