It's all good.
I forgot to update my journal and tell everyone I'm not pregnant (thank fucking gods). Whatever's going on with me is either cancer or stress...hopefully the latter. If that stick I peed on turned up positive, I have no compunctions about informing you that I would have immediately booked in for an abortion. I've drank, I've smoked and the thought of something growing inside of me, kicking my organs around is terrifying enough on its own without the risk of damage to a fetus. I believe that people who intend to reproduce should refrain from the listed transgressions, at least until said brat is born and alive. My genetics are shitty enough without adding fetal alcohol syndrome to the list, thank you.
I have very "male" sensibilities and I wouldn't want something squirming around inside of me any more than my husband would...motherhood be damned. I'm nurturing towards animals but if I had to put up with some kid constantly demanding my attention for eighteen years and beyond, I'd kill myself. Not...going...to...happen.
I've told my husband that if he ever wants kids I'd consider it for his benefit but I think he knows I'm not a model recipient of gestation, let alone the boundless patience required to raise a child. I've told him plainly that if we ever had a kid, all the cuntwork goes straight to him. I'm not going to share my body for nine months, give up all the things I love to do and tear my twat open pushing it out just for him to sit on his ass and let me do all the work afterwards. He gets the easy part in reproduction so he gets to be the bitch after it's finally out of me.
I think I can safely say I won't ever suffer pressure from him to breed. Thank Morrigue. Oh, and anyone who tells me that my refusal to bear and raise children is "unwomanly" or "unlady-like" can suck themselves. I'm sick to death of seeing women spiritually kill themselves trying to appease the "ideal mother" expectation. That will NEVER be me. I'd rather die.
I have very "male" sensibilities and I wouldn't want something squirming around inside of me any more than my husband would...motherhood be damned. I'm nurturing towards animals but if I had to put up with some kid constantly demanding my attention for eighteen years and beyond, I'd kill myself. Not...going...to...happen.
I've told my husband that if he ever wants kids I'd consider it for his benefit but I think he knows I'm not a model recipient of gestation, let alone the boundless patience required to raise a child. I've told him plainly that if we ever had a kid, all the cuntwork goes straight to him. I'm not going to share my body for nine months, give up all the things I love to do and tear my twat open pushing it out just for him to sit on his ass and let me do all the work afterwards. He gets the easy part in reproduction so he gets to be the bitch after it's finally out of me.
I think I can safely say I won't ever suffer pressure from him to breed. Thank Morrigue. Oh, and anyone who tells me that my refusal to bear and raise children is "unwomanly" or "unlady-like" can suck themselves. I'm sick to death of seeing women spiritually kill themselves trying to appease the "ideal mother" expectation. That will NEVER be me. I'd rather die.