I asked Jill to select a winner from all the wonderful and hilarious entries. She picked the lovely and talented Carissa‘s caption:

“Tell me again why I’m trying to have another one of these?”

Since Carissa is not yet a mom, Noah gets to keep all the goodies below for himself. Meanwhile, I will need to think of something else to send Carissa.

I just love these giant consignment sales. All that booty for $31.83, including tax. And those orange and black pjs? And the white shirt? Hanna Andersson. Those were the most expensive, at a combined $7.50.  New, those pjs are listed at $36.

This is the most awesome meme-type project I’ve seen online in a long time. Thanks, Miss Zoot, for writing yours in time for me to hear about it!

I do feel a little weird about writing it — a number of readers knew Teenage Liza, and might have different interpretations of certain events.

Dear Teenage Liza,

Back away from the white fishnet stockings and 90% of that eye makeup. Back. Away.

With the eye makeup, the thing is that you have epicanthal eye folds, so no one can see most eye shadow anyway. And what they can see, like when you blink, clumps up into one thin line at the fold within about half an hour of when you put it on. This isn’t the look you’re going for, and you waste a lot of time and money on it.

Please try not to worry so much about what other people think about you. You can’t control it, and your efforts … well, I think they mostly backfired.

When you were being yourself — opinionated, talkative, funny, engaged, thinking — that’s when people liked you. When you rocketed wildly between that, dressing like a slutty metalhead (you thought) (well, you didn’t think the slutty part) (well, you kind of did), and trying to pretend that you weren’t that smart, I’m pretty sure that’s when people found you off-putting.

Whoever told you “fake it till you make it” or to “never let them see you sweat” didn’t mean it like you thought. They didn’t mean you should never change your mind, or admit the possibility of being wrong, or that you should only try things you were pretty sure you’d be good at.

They also didn’t mean you could pretend that your family was just like everyone else’s family — they weren’t, and you were incredibly lucky that way. You’ll figure out how much you learned around the dinner table somewhere in college, and then you’ll get it at a whole new level when you come back to Madison for law school. (Hehheh, yeah, you’re going to change your mind about trying to get as far away from home as humanly possible. Don’t hit me!)

Also? Who you were and what kind of family you had pretty much showed through your pores; you weren’t fooling anyone. At least not for long.

You’ll be so much happier when you figure out that it is ok, even critically important, to ask for what you want. Sometimes even to fight for it. No one is awarding bonus points for stoicism, and mind-reading is seriously unreliable.

For example, during your senior year? You should fight for Dave. After he tells you about his girlfriend who was away at college, find a way to say, “Please pick me instead of her.” Point out that it was completely ridiculous for her 18 year old self to tell his 17 year old self that he was her last hope for men.

You’re going to think you were being noble and objective by saying, “It sounds like you have to make a decision,” but you’re not. You’re being a martyr. And frankly, unfair to all three of you. Hint: you talk alot and you’re very opinionated. Why would anyone think you’re holding back the most important part?

That story, at least, winds up with an very happy ending.

“Her” becomes one of your closest friends in college, and still is 20 years later. You and Dave go through a lot of cycles of drama, but end up good friends too. But if you would have told him what you wanted that very first time you two dated, you might have avoided a lot of senior year sadness.

And in turn, you might not have hurt so many other people in your desperate attempt to appear and convince yourself (and others) that you were “fine” and “totally over it.”

BTW, even if the part where you fought for Dave didn’t work, you should skip the part where you attempt frantically to convince everyone that you’re fine. Let yourself be with the sadness, even if it shows, and for the love of god, skip this particular slutty phase. It hurts other people, and it doesn’t make you feel better, it makes you feel worse.

That reminds me. Please don’t be the other woman. I know you think that no one will ever pick you as that one, most special person ever, but you’re wrong. It will happen. And being the other woman? It will leave you lonely and guilt-ridden and miserable every time. I don’t care what kind of chemistry you have, it is not worth it.

You don’t deserve to be treated like that. In fact, you might want to look into antidepressants, because I think every time you get yourself into that situation, what’s really going on is you’re acting out some other hurt or depression. You will eventually cut that out, but save yourself the misery. Don’t even start!

One last thing before I go — appreciate your friends. You have some amazing ones, and that feeling you have, where you think they’re going to be your best friends forever?

You’re not far off. You won’t be quite as close as you are when you’re all breathless teenagers, but some of them will still be among your closest friends and favorite people in 20 years. Probably for much longer than that, even.

Take care, Teenage Liza. I wouldn’t change places with you for anything, but it’ll be ok.

Liza-at-37

For those of you who aren’t big on reading comments, but still want the news:

Nurse Indecisive called me this morning, reporting that Dr. Charming is not worried about my once/daily nursing specifically because we know that I’m ovulating, responding appropriately to the Clomid, etc. Last cycle there were two probably-mature-egg follicles and two smaller ones at my mid-cycle check. Which is actually right on target — 2 or 3 eggs is the goal.

He also reminded me that at my age and on my medications, each IUI cycle only has an approximately 20% chance of success.

That was kind of a sock in the gut.

I dropped out of Sociology grad school because I’m incredibly bad at statistics, so I can’t tell you what that translates to over the course of 3 cycles. But I know for sure that the answer is not awesome.

I *think* that I’m not going to change any plans or family practices for the next cycle. But I did raise the question with Jill about maybe saving the last vial for IVF. Which then leads to a whole conversation about how to pay for it, and whether or not we would consider doing an “IVF vacation” to the Czech Republic or South Africa, etc.