Thursday, February 11, 2010

I'm a Toys-R-Us Kid

There are some days where I just really don't like being a grown up.  Usually most days.  I just had 2 and a half hour conversation with DFW, where grown up stuff was discussed.  I don't know how much I like this.  It made my anxiety level rise to a fatal level. Some talked about adult topics include.... Having babies, buying a home, and paying taxes.  Really?  Ummm... who are we?  I thought I was just 22 years old last week.  No?? Shit.  I think I mentally block out my age and life responsibilities on certain days.  I am throwing a sweet sixteen birthday party for myself for my "twenty something" birthday.  Point made.  I don't want to grow up, I'm a Toys-R-Us kid.  I must admit that the main event of the night was having babies. Or rather, why not to have them.  DFW got a call from her doctor about having a meeting to make a "family plan" just in case, and her boss suggested that she change her insurance in case of a fetus.  She probably said "baby" or whatever. We mainly focused on the deformation of our bodies when the fetuses show up, and how every baby mama we know says it will never be the same.  This is very discouraging and gives me night terrors. I work for moms for a living, and get consistent warnings from them.  "Don't let my boobs scare you.  They used to be big and amazing."  This is genuinely burned into the frontal lobe of my brain.  Then comes the "I have accepted the permanent stomach pooch as well." And these are beautiful women who work out literally every single day of their lives. (If they didn't, I would be out of a job)  Again with the body deformation!?  This is not looking good.  The highlight of my weeks are the days when I get frantic phone calls from the moms.... " Can you please come over?  I am about to murder my children."  Oh yes, this really motivates me into motherhood.  Thanks.  But in real life, I am afraid of an alien taking over my body, making brown marks all over me, making my boobs sag because it's always hungry, and then stretching out my special place.  

DFW's  main concern is that the infant will want food, therefor taking away from her monthly shopping budget.  This is a valid and logical point.  I mean, we would have to cancel our shoe dazzle accounts.  No thank you fetus.  Another obvious problem is the "show stealing baby."  No one pays attention to your bitchin' threads and brand new sexy leg platforms when there is a tiny living human in the room.  Or do you no longer wear said items post fetus?  I hope this is not the case.  Today the baby itch is def in remission.


Cathy said...

I hear ya. No babies in this body either. Adoption someday?....maybe...maybe not.

Stacy said...

I'm new to your blog, what's DFW?

Lindsey & Daylan Childress said...

How many glasses of wine do you think I can have and still "safely" supervise a baby?

The Batcave said...

Welcome to the Batcave Stacy! DFW is just a code name for my bf. She is trying to decide on the baby no baby thing. She really loves shopping. This is a problem.

And Linds..... a few at least. Just don't take and pain meds. The baby should be fine. I think.

Cait* said...

I'm Peter Pan. Is that creepy....since I'm not a boy? And have no plans of living with a crew of children...Benjamin Button works too...fml.

Cupcake said...

HaHa!!! I feel like I just fucking got my driver's license yesterday! (If you ask the hubby, I shouldn't have one at all!)

I've noticed I refer to 20 year olds as 'kids' when the fuck did that happen? I'm 26!!!! Jesus!

I have 2 kids, and yes stretch marks and saggy boobs at fucking 26! Mother fucker, cock sucking, goddamn!!!!

But, on the bright side, my stretch marks are really skinny and white, not all wide and purpley colored. And Victoria Secret can fix the tit problem until I decide that it's time for my first divorce and take him for everything and get a boob job!

And just think of the tax benefits!!! :)