You know me and the love I have for children. Know me enough and you should know that my name and these little people should not be uttered in the same sentence.
Recently, I was cornered by one of those overly
blind biased indulgent mothers. There I was, innocently minding my own business in a little room in the office doing my claims when a colleague who just returned from maternity leave popped in to say hi.
We exchanged rather formal pleasantries (because I’m not close to her) and of course, out of sheer politeness (and also because there’s only so much about knowing about breast feeding I want to know), I asked after her baby.
Greatest mistake ever. Immediately, she whipped out her phone and exclaimed that I have to see how cute her baby is. Our conversation kind of went the following way, with my actual thoughts in italics.
Me: “So, how’s motherhood treating you?” Oh gosh what should I talk about next?
Her: *exclaims* “Oh! Let me show you pictures!! He’s very cute!!!”
Me: *with fake enthusiasm* “Sure!!!” Firstly, self praise is no praise. How can you call your own son cute?! Plus, I’ve seen pictures on Facebook and I don’t think he’s cute. He looks just like any Chinese ugly baby.
Her: *shows me about 200 pictures which look exactly the same while pointing out how “adorable” her offspring is*
Me: Omg when is this going to end? Somebody save MEEEEEEEE!!! *makes appropriate oohs and ahhs every so often*
After what felt like the longest three minutes of my life, I managed to cleverly (note self-praise there) change the topic. Not for long though. NMOTB (replace Kids for Mum) decides that the world and her mother should bask in her happiness and that translates to having babies. Yuck.
Her: “Hey, you’re my age right? When’s your turn? Better buck up!”
Me: For fucks sake here we go again. Why should I “buck up”?! I don’t even want children. Who says one can be happy only when I’ve gone through the agony of having ripped my vagina apart? The only bucking I want to be doing is beneath someone (preferably hot) “Haha yeah.”
Her: “Don’t worry I’m sure the right one will come soon.”
Me: “Haha yeah.” And what if the right one doesn’t come? Can I sue you for misleading me? I will simply agree because if I say I don’t believe in the right one, you’re gonna be like all the annoying 8419 people out there to lecture me on my pessimism. “Oh hey I’ve gotta go scan all my receipts in and go pee.”
And I’ve had to go sit in the toilet for 10 minutes hoping that someone would have distracted NMOTB by the time I went back.
Really. I’ve had it up to HERE (does chopping action at neck) with all these high horse riders. Leave. Me. Alone. You’re not me. You don’t know what I want or don’t want in life. Just because you’ve been cookie-cut and are making good progress according to society’s life plan doesn’t mean I want the same. I never like to conform.
What I do know is that I would like to carry around a roll of industrial-size duct tape (preferably industrial-strength too) to bound and gag the next person who decides to corner me and try to force what they think is best for me onto me. *cracks knuckles and jumps around Jackie Chan-style for warm up*