Every little girl dreams of becoming a mother someday… Or a hooker!

The other night I was having drinks with a girlfriend when she told me that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to have children anymore. Gasp! Or as Joseph Conrad once said: The Horror! The Horror!

Just kidding! I know motherhood is similar to guerilla warfare… and not everyone wants to go to war! Fair enough! I mean, I dare you to spend a couple hours at my house… I bet you’ll race to the nearest Home Depot so you can Crazy Glue your vagina shut!

But seriously, it wasn’t my friend’s admission that surprised me, but rather the way she said it… quietly, and ridden with guilt. Almost as if I would pounce across the table and claw her evil non-Mommy Dearest eyes out. I guess she failed to notice the birth control pills I was popping with every sip of wine… While practising abstinence, I might add! One can never be too careful! They also say it’s something in the water… so I drink wine instead!

Don’t get me wrong… I love my Beasts and all the craziness they bring to my life. I wouldn’t change it for a thing! But I chose to have children. I so respect and admire my girlfriends who have the foresight to know that they do not want children. I mean, it’s better than having children only to then be reminded why you didn’t want them in the first place, right?

So why the guilt? Well, the more I thought about it, the more I understood… As young girls turned women, we are brainwashed into thinking we must procreate. The very idea that a woman might actually not be interested in having her nice, pink curtains turned into a hearty, meat lasagna is blasphemous. While boys are busy playing their adventure games, girls are busy “playing house”.

For girls, it’s all about finding prince charming and living happily ever-after. Well let me tell you, this Queen has kissed many a’ frogs in her day, only to be left with herpe-like warts around her mouth. As you get older, you quickly learn that it takes a few notches in the ole’ belt to realize that one girl’s piece of shit boyfriend is another drunk slut’s prince charming.

And just when you thought women were making headway… you walk into a toy store and get retail-raped by a sea of pink treadmills, pink stripper poles, pink lingerie, pink breastfeeding dolls, pink stilettos…. the list goes on! The gender stereotyping toys of my time were nothing compared to the shit they sell today. Case n’ point:

No longer will girls (or boys insirectly) be able to enjoy their perky 20’s, ’cause they’re now being vacuum sucked from the tender age of 3!

Barbie, her perfect double Ds and 21 inch waist are having a baby! Awwww….

If only these panties and cell phones were around in my time… I’d have been the star of 16 and Pregnant and would now be enjoying life as a porn star on meth! Shucks!

What? You mean to tell me that I wasted my youth on gymnastics and skip rope?!? The only poles that I knew of were the ones on the street that I licked in the winter to see if my tongue would stick (FYI, it did… and it hurt!)

Oh no you don’t!  Nice try little girl… but Santa brought THIS toy for Mommy! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!

Really it’s no wonder my friend felt guilty… I mean, the nerve of her to chose to enjoy her weekend sleep-ins, shopping sprees, wash-board abs and silky pink curtains… Gasp! The whore! The whore! The lucky, lucky whore!

Cheers, Red Whino