My IPS are virtually gone and in it's place are AF cramps, pre-AF breakouts, and my desire to choke everyone that looks at me the wrong way. As a result, I broke down yesterday. Though the breakdown itself was about infertility, it was sparked by my hairdresser.
My "usual" hairdresser left the company, so I had no choice but to try someone new. This didn't bother me because I knew I would still get a good haircut. The company has a very good reputation, and they are very nice people. I was looking forward to a relaxing morning of having someone else wash and style my hair.
I walked back to meet my new girl, and took my hair out of my ponytail, she gasped and said:
"Oh, your hair looks awful!"
She went on to tell me everything I was doing wrong with my hair: not using super expensive shampoo and conditioner, not using the right product, not using the right brush. She babbled ON and ON all the way through the wash and walk back to the chair.
When we got back to the chair, she said, "Oh, I have to move this chair further inside my station. One of my coworkers used it yesterday and she's NINE months pregnant! Can you believe that?"
Me: "Wow, no. Unbelievable."
Me (thinking to myself): "Un-f***ing-believable."
She proceeded to drone on for about ten minutes about her pregnant coworker and her super cute belly and how she was ready to pop.
By this time, my stomach was wound up so tight, I didn't know if I was going to vomit or cry.
After she wrapped up her love affair with the pregnant coworker, she went back to talking about my shitty hair. The rest of the time was like an hour-long infomercial for everything I should buy to make my hair "shiny and more manageable" (no joke).
When I got in the car, I burst into tears. I cried hysterically the entire way home. When I got home, I threw myself on the floor next to my doggy and cried some more. This is where my mom found me when she got home. All I could spit out was:
"I can't beg God for something that he so clearly does not want me to have. I'm losing it."