That Blissful State Called Denial... Not.

Denial.

That is the term that describes the state in which a woman is when her period does not come for 4 months - and she still refuses to bite the bullet and take a pregnancy test. Isn't it a great word? Six little letters that describe the sensation of a faint haze over everything you do that is caused by KNOWING, but refusing to acknowledge.

What was I afraid of, really? That the little old man in the shop would LOOK at me, and THINK SOMETHING BAD? Huh, well you'd better get used to that honey, an annoying little voice mutters in my head.  
Shut up, I tell it, it's not like I'm actually pregnant or anything. 

Sometimes, stubbornness and denial waltz hand-in-hand, just to give you a little bit of peace and quiet in which you can be right.

Have you ever heard the joke, 'Never trust a guy with a comb-over. If he can fool himself, he can fool you.'? Yes, I am so lame that I smile as a type it out. I had the biggest mental comb-over I have ever heard of. No period, small bump, sore boobs, the works - and yet I still didn't want to believe.

The weirdest thing ever triggered me to take a test. In fact, it was more an act of vanity then anything. That summer, I had decided to take up jogging. Yes, stupid I know, when I could potentially be pregnant, but that's how bad my comb-over was. As I started to jog, every step I took felt like I was Sisyphus pushing his boulder up a hill. 

I didn't want to be this unfit. I didn't think I was very fat. I couldn't be. There had to be a reason I was going so slow! ...I know! Wouldn't it be great to blame this heavy feeling on pregnancy? At least I wouldn't be fat! 

(Let me make something clear here. I don't judge other people by their weight. In fact, I'm not sure I even notice other's weight at all. But it was different when it came to my body. I was a shallow, image-obsessed teen back then. It didn't help that I was starting to notice my rounder face and tummy at the same time my boyfriend left me. It made me really, REALLY self-concious about my weight and I was blaming that on why he went.)

So I took a test. Actually, I took my mum's debit card (sorry mum) and then took a test, because I had no money of my own but I kinda needed to know. When I went into the chemist I skimmed my eyes skimmed over the tests as fast as I could without looking conspicuous. In fact, I grabbed something so fast I wasn't even sure I had the right thing. At the counter my eyes welled up with hot tears as the little old man politely averted his eyes from me and said, 'Thank you, come again'. I hurried out of the shop with a flush on my face.

Why, in pharmacies, do they put the condoms next to the counter? Is it so you can just quickly grab a pack as you pay for your other items, inconspicuous like? It seemed like a slap in the face, having them right there, with that little voice murmuring, you should having been buying THEM, not these. What a mess you've got yourself into.

Mum thought I was still out jogging, so I sat on the doorstep for another twenty minutes, reading through the instructions. I had 2 tests, just to be sure. One for today, one just in case it's positive to check tomorrow. Thinking about it now, I had no idea how I'd fooled myself that I could wait a whole evening to take the second test if the first one was positive. So I took both tests in one day, and both times got two little pink lines. As I stared at the second test, what I thought was the impossible suddenly became the probable.

I was pregnant.