Have I mentioned lately how much I love birth control? No? Well, let me tall ya. I LOVE birth control: condoms, spermicides, the pill, all of it. Ortho-tri-cyclin is my friend. It makes me happy. It keeps me sane. Birth control will be my life-long pal.
Several incidents over the past 7 days have really driven that fact home, Well, perhaps 'driven that fact home' idoesn't quite cut it. These various events not only drove that fact home, but also had it bronzed, bolted to a wall, encased in shatter-proof glass, installed motion-sensor lasers and established a 24-hour SWAT team to guard it to make sure no one ever fucked with it again. Ever.
The urge to carve out my own ovaries with a rusty spoon has been overwhelming. Thank the pharmaceutical gods for birth control.
(EDIT: Additional thoughts after a good night's sleep)
Ever notice how, in a social situation, the person who either doesn't like or is afraid of dogs is the one the family dog always singles out? It works that way with kids, too.
I try to stay out of the way, avoid eye contact, even create a brown and grey aura of unpleasantness around me and they still single me out. And won't leave me alone. The big scary, grouchy lady has become an endless source of entertainment for them.
So why child-free and not childless? "Childess" sounds like a condition to be pitied.
Homeless. Jobless. Worthless.
"Child-free" sounds so nice: cancer-free, debt-free, worry-free.
Ok, I know not all kids are bad. And not all kids are bad all the time. But after the situations I've dealt with recently I feel like a rape-victim. I feel traumatized. It's Friday morning at 7:55am and I'm still reeling. I need group therapy and a hug... from grown-ups.