In light of my most recent blog, in which I outlined the horrors of Becoming A Woman, I began thinking about my future and what I should expect of my body if and when the time comes, I choose to house a proverbial bun in my toasty warm and equally proverbial oven. Truth be told, I find the whole concept of being pregnant and the act of childbirth horrendous and I genuinely don’t believe people when they say that it wasn’t painful. I mean, you’re shoving a human out of your happy place, what part of ‘excruciating hell pain’ doesn’t compute? Also, I’ve known women shit themselves and tear their happy place in two, purely to give birth to a tiny human who spends a long time crying, shitting, eating and repeating that process to the detriment of your sleep pattern. I find it terrifying.
Women are also divided in their opinions of pregnancy and childbirth and I’ve noticed that in my own social circles, I have been regarded as a bit of a lunatic for not lying back and thrusting a bairn or two out of my vagina. In the past, people have actually openly tutted at me and looked me up and down upon discovering that I, in my early twenties, actively elect to remain without a child. Apparently, admitting that I’d much rather focus on a career in my twenties and also stating that if I do choose to have a baby in the future that I’d quite like to be married first as, as well as being in a financially stable situation to be able to provide everything and then some for the tiny version of myself, should I decide I want to have a baby. Apparently, I didn’t make this clear and people have heard me say, ‘I HATE BABIES AND WANT TO THROW MY FECES AT YOUR BABY AND YOUR LIFE CHOICES. I WANT TO SIP CHAMPAGNE FROM A GOBLET MADE ENTIRELY OF BABY BONE AND THEN THROW THAT GOBLET IN YOUR STUPID FACE, MOTHER-HUMAN!’ You can see where the confusion arose, I’m sure…
Don’t get me wrong, I support women who choose to have a baby regardless of their financial or professional situation; it’s a choice, after all and all women are more than welcome to choosing their own life path without input from anyone, especially me. I can’t even tell my right from my left, most times. It’s just the entire concept of it is so terrifying to me: Housing a baby in your uterus. A baby. A human baby. A baby that will one day walk and talk and eventually house a baby of its own; it feels a little Human Centipede like to me… but you know, in the most beautiful way imaginable. Of course.
Parts of pregnancy I enjoy, both in terms of seeing it happen to other people and I imagine enjoying myself if the time comes is that society in general are appreciative and celebrate your every growing stomach. They will also ask to touch it occasionally, so that they can admire it’s sheer size up close and personal. I’m not sure about you, but I would love it if people did that with my tummy now, but they don’t, they look at it and frown and ask how much strain my jeans are under, which I find offensive on so many levels. I also like that everyone treats you like a queen and constantly asks you if you need anything and also tell you that you look beautiful all the time, even though you haven’t seen your feet in weeks and literally cannot control your flatulence but even that is oddly charming because the baby is lying funny inside you, or is gassy itself. Charming.
Parts of pregnancy I don’t enjoy, both in terms of seeing it happen to other people and how I imagine I will feel if and when the time comes is that from the moment this tiny little invader makes its way into YOUR body, after you openly invited it inside, it takes over and for the rest of your life, your body is not your own. Especially during pregnancy: You eat some food the baby doesn’t like? Oops, vomit. You enjoyed wine once upon a time? Oops, no can do, I’m allergic. You want to go to that sushi bar with your friends? Sorry, raw fish isn’t good for me, I’M A BABY. It’s very annoying. Also I don’t enjoy that it just makes itself at home and begins MOVING things around – like your HIPS, did you know that your hips will change and move to accommodate the baby in the birth canal? No, neither did I. I like my hips. I’m very angry about this, baby. Also, babies are HUGE. One of my best friends gave birth to a really tiny baby recently, which kind of seems okay, but then my cousin gave birth to a baby that was NINE POUNDS. I’ve said in the past ‘oh, nine pounds, imagine shoving that out of your vagina!’ with no real perception of how much nine pounds really is, other than the fact that it is considered large for a baby, but really I have no idea. So, for your information and also for mine, I have just looked up house hold items that weigh roughly nine pounds so we can put this shit into perspective:
- A turkey
- Forty sticks of butter
- An entire sack of potatoes
- A bowling ball
- An average sized three month old baby
- Roughly four and a half bottles of 2 litre Coca Cola
I mean, that’s huge! Vaginas aren’t that big, but they are able to stretch to push out a tiny human whom they have literally baked inside of themselves for nine months… a baby that weighs the same as a bowling ball. I went bowling recently and I dropped the bowling ball. Babies are heavy. Going back to my last post about clever sperm, all I can say is that sperm is thick as shit; all you have to do is just keep swimming and kill your brothers until you reach the sweet spot. Women have to literally morph themselves into all sorts of shapes and sizes and then shove out A TURKEY from their vagina! If you are slightly confused by my outrage, please, take a minute out of your day to either look at your own vagina, or ask someone very nicely if you can look at theirs so you can comprehend the idea of a full size turkey making its way out of it. Terrifying, right? Right.
Obviously, alongside the other perks you then have a tiny human who will love you more than life itself, unless you’re a bad mother and then it will hate you. You will also have massive tits if you choose to breastfeed, but I already have those so really all I’m going for is being fat and beautiful and maybe the human who loves me. In all honesty, though, I am more than happy to wait until they have invented some kind of transporter from Star Trek and then the baby can literally be transported out by sending me beam me up, mama brain waves. And then I’ll do it.