I am Jill's wasted uterus.
Feb. 21st, 2005 01:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lykomancerThis has come up so much in the last two months or so that I feel I must vent comment on it.
___
I do not want to have children.
I never want to have children.
What part of this is so fucking complicated?
(Or are you all just simple-minded?)
Let's talk about this, shall we?
I don't fantasize about having children; I don't go all soft looking at miniature jumpers embroidered with pastel bubble-like cartoon giraffes. No, I don't think that terrycloth lion with the rattle attached is the cutest thing! No, really I don't think the babies are adorable. I don't feel like I am missing out on anything, and I don't care about societal norms of having a family in order to complete your life.
I don't want to hold your baby. I don't want to see your baby. I don't want you to keep offering the brat up to me like I'm missing out on my chance to sip from the Holy Grail. And I definitely don't want your baby to grab my finger or clothing or anything else and start drooling on it like a rabid monkey with mange.
I don't want to see you suddenly stop in the middle of a conversation with another adult to bend over the carrier or stroller and start making stupid noises; please, you are embarrassing yourself, and, Lord knows, probably the child, too.
I don't want to see you buy your little Precious one more toy she doesn't need and then not give the homeless guy on the corner a buck. I don't like seeing gender roles and stereotypes enforced with toy make-up and plastic pistols. No, I am not willing to roll my eyes good-humoredly when Junior goes tearing through the aisles of the store or decides he needs to blow wet raspberries on the bus seat directly in front of me because he has "so much energy!"
No, I don't want to hear excuses for your pathetic attempts at parenting and discipline. I don't want to see you cave and listen to that little tyrant's unreasonable demands; I don't want to see you plying ten pounds of chocolate and sugary treats and soda and fatty chips on your child in a contemptible bid to win your child's love. I don't want to hear that you bought your 6-year-old a new TV-VCR combo and a Playstation 2.
I don't want to hear how smart Junior is, or how clever, or how many extra-curricular activities you've got Precious enrolled in-- your miserable life leaking in as you try to live vicariously through your progeny.
No, children do not cause warm, fuzzy feelings of maternal instinct to rise in my cold, heartless bitch breast. No, I don't want to cuddle or coo or play endless games of Chutes-and-Ladders and Monopoly Junior for the next ten years.
No, I don't feel like I need to pass my wisdom on to other generation, or whatever-such bullshit. I don't feel that I need to breed in order to benefit the world. Unlike most of you, I don't feel that I need to reproduce and try to force the fruit of my loins to try to live the life I want now but failed to have.
I don't want to experience the "miracle" of pregnancy and birth. I don't want to see my body swell up in some grotesque fashion, stretching obscenely over the parasite residing in my guts, stealing my nutrition, and sapping my energy. No, I don't think this is analogous to (the Christian) God's creation of the world, you silly fucked-up seminarians; God created the world with the Logos, therefore it'd be closer to say that God is a writer rather than a pregnant woman (STOP MIXING YOUR METAPHORS, PEOPLE!). No, I don't think it's a miracle. No, I don't want to hear your sappy stories about the motherly love that fills one's heart when one looks upon the squish-headed, red-faced, wrinkled terror that has emerged from between one's legs after the hours of pain which is your body expelling the parasite. No, I don't want said parasite to touch my nipples and drain yet more nutrients and energy from me.
No, I don't want to be a slave to a demanding, squalling infant, waking up at all hours of the night for feedings and changings. No, I don't want to wipe the damned thing's ass and mouth and cater to its every whim. No, I don't give a damn about its potential or hidden loveliness, especially when it pulls on my hair or earrings or elbows me in the stomach. No, I don't care that it doesn't know any better, to be honest.
No, I don't want to spend a large portion of my life siphoning off energy and emotions and money on a creature that will grow up and most likely dislike me, need therapy, and not leave home until it's 35 (and then keep coming back because it's spouse got angry at it, it lost it's job, etc.).
No, I don't want to deal with a pissy teenager who will throw temper tantrums and do things that are incredibly stupid no matter how many times I tell it that doing those things is really not a good idea. I don't want to watch something I spent so much time on ruin everything I'd have done for it and not appreciate me for all the bloody work that's gone into its 18+ years.
No, I don't think I will change my mind. No, I don't want to hear you say that "that's what you said, too, and now look at my four beautiful children"-- I makes me want to punch you in your annoying, smugly patronizing smile.
No, I will not consider a long term relationship with a someone who cannot respect the battle-trench in the sand on this issue. A real man/woman knows not too push on sensitive topics, and my true mate(s) will never demand that I do something I clearly feel so negatively about.
No, I don't think a man has any right to rebuke me or tell me that I am wrong to feel the way I do. NO RIGHT. We can discuss this again when it's your body coping with pregnancy, getting turned inside out during birth, producing milk for the monster; when it's you who is constantly getting up in the middle of the night and sacrificing your career to take care of the child, and when its normal behavior for you to watch the kid but when I do it it's called babysitting. M'kay? Then we'll talk.
No, I don't care if I am in a polyamorous relationship with a man and a woman, and, after some discussion about some ground rules, they have a child. That's probably fine. Just respect my boundaries on that one. They are going to be extensive.
No, I do not like children.
No, I do not want to have children.
That is all I have to say about that.
___
I do not want to have children.
I never want to have children.
What part of this is so fucking complicated?
(Or are you all just simple-minded?)
Let's talk about this, shall we?
I don't fantasize about having children; I don't go all soft looking at miniature jumpers embroidered with pastel bubble-like cartoon giraffes. No, I don't think that terrycloth lion with the rattle attached is the cutest thing! No, really I don't think the babies are adorable. I don't feel like I am missing out on anything, and I don't care about societal norms of having a family in order to complete your life.
I don't want to hold your baby. I don't want to see your baby. I don't want you to keep offering the brat up to me like I'm missing out on my chance to sip from the Holy Grail. And I definitely don't want your baby to grab my finger or clothing or anything else and start drooling on it like a rabid monkey with mange.
I don't want to see you suddenly stop in the middle of a conversation with another adult to bend over the carrier or stroller and start making stupid noises; please, you are embarrassing yourself, and, Lord knows, probably the child, too.
I don't want to see you buy your little Precious one more toy she doesn't need and then not give the homeless guy on the corner a buck. I don't like seeing gender roles and stereotypes enforced with toy make-up and plastic pistols. No, I am not willing to roll my eyes good-humoredly when Junior goes tearing through the aisles of the store or decides he needs to blow wet raspberries on the bus seat directly in front of me because he has "so much energy!"
No, I don't want to hear excuses for your pathetic attempts at parenting and discipline. I don't want to see you cave and listen to that little tyrant's unreasonable demands; I don't want to see you plying ten pounds of chocolate and sugary treats and soda and fatty chips on your child in a contemptible bid to win your child's love. I don't want to hear that you bought your 6-year-old a new TV-VCR combo and a Playstation 2.
I don't want to hear how smart Junior is, or how clever, or how many extra-curricular activities you've got Precious enrolled in-- your miserable life leaking in as you try to live vicariously through your progeny.
No, children do not cause warm, fuzzy feelings of maternal instinct to rise in my cold, heartless bitch breast. No, I don't want to cuddle or coo or play endless games of Chutes-and-Ladders and Monopoly Junior for the next ten years.
No, I don't feel like I need to pass my wisdom on to other generation, or whatever-such bullshit. I don't feel that I need to breed in order to benefit the world. Unlike most of you, I don't feel that I need to reproduce and try to force the fruit of my loins to try to live the life I want now but failed to have.
I don't want to experience the "miracle" of pregnancy and birth. I don't want to see my body swell up in some grotesque fashion, stretching obscenely over the parasite residing in my guts, stealing my nutrition, and sapping my energy. No, I don't think this is analogous to (the Christian) God's creation of the world, you silly fucked-up seminarians; God created the world with the Logos, therefore it'd be closer to say that God is a writer rather than a pregnant woman (STOP MIXING YOUR METAPHORS, PEOPLE!). No, I don't think it's a miracle. No, I don't want to hear your sappy stories about the motherly love that fills one's heart when one looks upon the squish-headed, red-faced, wrinkled terror that has emerged from between one's legs after the hours of pain which is your body expelling the parasite. No, I don't want said parasite to touch my nipples and drain yet more nutrients and energy from me.
No, I don't want to be a slave to a demanding, squalling infant, waking up at all hours of the night for feedings and changings. No, I don't want to wipe the damned thing's ass and mouth and cater to its every whim. No, I don't give a damn about its potential or hidden loveliness, especially when it pulls on my hair or earrings or elbows me in the stomach. No, I don't care that it doesn't know any better, to be honest.
No, I don't want to spend a large portion of my life siphoning off energy and emotions and money on a creature that will grow up and most likely dislike me, need therapy, and not leave home until it's 35 (and then keep coming back because it's spouse got angry at it, it lost it's job, etc.).
No, I don't want to deal with a pissy teenager who will throw temper tantrums and do things that are incredibly stupid no matter how many times I tell it that doing those things is really not a good idea. I don't want to watch something I spent so much time on ruin everything I'd have done for it and not appreciate me for all the bloody work that's gone into its 18+ years.
No, I don't think I will change my mind. No, I don't want to hear you say that "that's what you said, too, and now look at my four beautiful children"-- I makes me want to punch you in your annoying, smugly patronizing smile.
No, I will not consider a long term relationship with a someone who cannot respect the battle-trench in the sand on this issue. A real man/woman knows not too push on sensitive topics, and my true mate(s) will never demand that I do something I clearly feel so negatively about.
No, I don't think a man has any right to rebuke me or tell me that I am wrong to feel the way I do. NO RIGHT. We can discuss this again when it's your body coping with pregnancy, getting turned inside out during birth, producing milk for the monster; when it's you who is constantly getting up in the middle of the night and sacrificing your career to take care of the child, and when its normal behavior for you to watch the kid but when I do it it's called babysitting. M'kay? Then we'll talk.
No, I don't care if I am in a polyamorous relationship with a man and a woman, and, after some discussion about some ground rules, they have a child. That's probably fine. Just respect my boundaries on that one. They are going to be extensive.
No, I do not like children.
No, I do not want to have children.
That is all I have to say about that.
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no subject
Date: 2005-07-09 11:45 pm (UTC)