I think the best idea all together, is tearing out my ovaries. I think that’s where this is stemming from. It’s like in the last, say… few months- a large homing device implanted inside my reproductive organs is flashing, “MAKE SOMETHING. CREATE SOMETHING. I’M BORED! YOU’RE WASTING ME.”
I smell a baby, and I’m more turned on than the boys that used to wear Aqua in college. (Mmmmm… Soccer Players.) Suddenly my chest feels like it’s pooling with substances that just aren’t supossed to be there, my arms are opening in a large cradleing gesture and I’m getting ready to give birth.
Why is it that I’ve spent half my life praying I’m not pregnant, and now I wonder if I’ll ever -get- pregnant again. I’m greatly concerned at the recent developments in my ‘youneedababy!’ brain.
I tried looking at cute puppies. Im allergic to anything with animal hair, so that rules out the small and furry. Humans are about the only thing I can cohabitate with- I don’t like the smell of fish, (they do smell,) and it leaves me thinking that should I become more desperate?
From all the novels I’ve read and shows I’ve watched, this is only supossed to hit wealthy, upper-New-York, women in their 40′s who have a longing to be trophy wifes past their prime. What the hell, fallopian tubes?
I’ve talked to the man of my life about this multiple times. I need to detoxify my body from primal urges that are setting me up for failure. (Because stressing out every month with one, is utter joy, I tell you.) We joke together about how my internal organs are freaking out about going into early retirement, (maybe this is a sign the cancer is gone forever and that I’m healthy as can be?)
I even tried petfinder.com- maybe something would jump out at me, that would tell me, “Screw your debilitating allergies to furry pets, you NEED this puppy.” (Irresponsibility at it’s finest, people.) Only one dog jumped out, and the ‘rehoming fee,’ made me take a second look at whether I could even afford to feed the hairy beast anything but Ava’s spagetti o rejects, (which is heard is bad for puppies.)
I always imagined myself married, and well-planned. Life never goes how we wish, and I think puberty is happening about 14 years too late.
Take away the adorable babies, and the hairy puppies. I need more chocolate.