Thinking of the tadpole

I've spent quite a lot of time with my medical embryology textbook from old anatomy days. You have to be brave to read this book while pregnant (or at any other time), because of the horrible photos of poor babies with dreadful congenital deformities. But it's nice to see the exact stage of embryo that I am, I presume, currently harbouring; a grain-of-rice sized tadpole with little knobbles down each side, like a baby dinosaur. And with a tail. I always wanted a tail, myself.
Either this is continuing to be the easiest pregnancy I've ever had, or else I'm about to be surprised by further developments. My uterus has stopped twinging - it doesn't hurt at all now; the nausea is extremely mild, almost non-existant; my breasts are tender but not agonisingly painful any more. I still feel pregnant, largely because everything tastes and smells different. I love the heightened sense of smell I get when pregnant; it's almost like becoming a werewolf or something, being able to detect the faintest taint in water, the slight hint of metal in beef, etc. It makes me wonder what it would be like to be transplanted into someone else's body: if altering my hormones can make everything taste different to me, using the same taste buds and brain cells that I had 5 weeks ago, how much more different might things taste with John's taste buds, say, or - I don't know - Nigella Lawson's?
And still not a trace of blood, either. I very much doubt this is an ectopic pregnancy - I'm almost past the risk for that, at 6 wks, I'd think, and don't have any risk factors for it. So it looks as if I may need to phone the doctor next week and arrange an initial appointment. I still don't want to get too involved with the pregnancy, though, not until I've had an early scan. At the moment, it's easiest to think about it as something interesting that's happening to someone else, on the whole.