This happens all the time, right...?

So, in light of my last post, albeit rather dramatic . . . ahem . . . I'd like to un-announce my pregnancy.

Yes, that is correct. The friggin' doofus that I am, I'd like to un-announce my pregnancy. Take back. Renege. Recant. Withdraw. Retract. Un-announce.

Un-un-un-un.

Unbelievable. So yes, while most everyone thinks I'm happily humming through my twelfth week of pregnancy, I am here to say, officially, that I am, in fact, NOT pregnant.

I thought I was.

Yes, I thought I was, but I am not.

How is this possible? What it does explain is my lack of extreme exhaustion and need to eat like an overworked team of oxen. What it doesn't explain is the strange tightening of my waistband, the ever-present need to pee, sore nipples, and why I hadn't had my period since the end of May. Shoot, I just figured every pregnancy was different.

Things this past week were starting to feel a little goofy, like, shouldn't my belly be a little bigger than this? . . . and why am I not tired at all? . . . and most alarming, . . . blood. So we decided it was time to take a pregnancy test. [Ahem, a first for this time 'round . . . coughcough . . . mmmmph]

Negative.

So, ladies, please: un-congratulate me. I am NOT pregnant. What I AM, however, is a complete and total nincompoop. This whole deal was announced to my entire family while I was home (too-good-to-be-true, everyone-in-the-same-place-at-the-same-time) and then, doorknob that I am, to the entire internet via my blog. Yes, I thought I was, but I am not.

Most definitely not.

Un-un-un-un.