(no subject)
Jul. 10th, 2006 04:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityvixenDo you know who is awesome? ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
i_am_rachiv. I don't know if she really wants the publicity, but I was inspired by her rantings to make some of my own. Beware, the subject matter is not for the squeamish (aka male).
I plan on surviving--somehow--the next hour and a half at work then returning home to curl into a ball of fierce, unstoppable death-directed-inwards pain.
What does a uterus do for me anyway? Providing that I know myself better than all the people who tell me I'll change my mind about having kids do, I will never use the damn thing except to get cancer. So the major selling point of the uterus? Misses me completely. I am not its demographic, not its target-of-sale.
Besides which, God sold me a lemon. My uterus, which does nothing for me, likes to put me in as much pain as possible for roughly two weeks of the year in addition to the three cumulative months of bleeding (do the math: ~30 days to a menses and, I shit you not, at least five days of bleeding over twelve months makes two to three months of the year).
For two weeks in a year, one day a month, my uterus merrily hurls itself back and forth against my other, more important, more useful organs so it can tear its own skin off. Sorta an internal face-lift for the old jalopy. Doesn't change the fact that she still runs irregular. And in the mean time, my spine resents being stiff and hammered in the lower lumbar region when it already has to contend with those oversized consequences of puberty giving it aches and pains at the top. Fucking hell, men want the breasts and the babies preserved so damn much? They can have them.
That's why I'm getting rid of my uterus. I'll sell it on e-Bay. Fibrosis, endometrial scarring, or histerectomy complicating your dreams of conceiving little blessings? I have the uterus you need. Never once hosted demon spawn, even has miraculously escaped the "unnatural" cycling of artificial hormones, and ne'er an IUD has penetrated it. I'll want a good price, but I'm flexible because I know it has its flaws. You'll have to resign yourself to three months of ruined underwear and poking tampons at it, and there are those twelve pesky days where you'd sooner volunteer yourself to be impregnated with an alien baby in the chest before you'd take on the pain it will give you in the abdomen, but but but! I guarantee this sucker'll pump out babies. I come from hardy stock. Mother had five kids. Dad's one of seven. Genetics on both sides favor this uterus.
I'd prefer a cashier's check.
Nah, still not quite as good asi_am_rachiv. Despite the crippling pain, I am not quite as sarcastically mean and wonderful. Fucking hell man. Whoever "designed" the uterus gives lie to that whole "intelligent" design bullshit.
i_am_rachiv. I don't know if she really wants the publicity, but I was inspired by her rantings to make some of my own. Beware, the subject matter is not for the squeamish (aka male).I plan on surviving--somehow--the next hour and a half at work then returning home to curl into a ball of fierce, unstoppable death-directed-inwards pain.
What does a uterus do for me anyway? Providing that I know myself better than all the people who tell me I'll change my mind about having kids do, I will never use the damn thing except to get cancer. So the major selling point of the uterus? Misses me completely. I am not its demographic, not its target-of-sale.
Besides which, God sold me a lemon. My uterus, which does nothing for me, likes to put me in as much pain as possible for roughly two weeks of the year in addition to the three cumulative months of bleeding (do the math: ~30 days to a menses and, I shit you not, at least five days of bleeding over twelve months makes two to three months of the year).
For two weeks in a year, one day a month, my uterus merrily hurls itself back and forth against my other, more important, more useful organs so it can tear its own skin off. Sorta an internal face-lift for the old jalopy. Doesn't change the fact that she still runs irregular. And in the mean time, my spine resents being stiff and hammered in the lower lumbar region when it already has to contend with those oversized consequences of puberty giving it aches and pains at the top. Fucking hell, men want the breasts and the babies preserved so damn much? They can have them.
That's why I'm getting rid of my uterus. I'll sell it on e-Bay. Fibrosis, endometrial scarring, or histerectomy complicating your dreams of conceiving little blessings? I have the uterus you need. Never once hosted demon spawn, even has miraculously escaped the "unnatural" cycling of artificial hormones, and ne'er an IUD has penetrated it. I'll want a good price, but I'm flexible because I know it has its flaws. You'll have to resign yourself to three months of ruined underwear and poking tampons at it, and there are those twelve pesky days where you'd sooner volunteer yourself to be impregnated with an alien baby in the chest before you'd take on the pain it will give you in the abdomen, but but but! I guarantee this sucker'll pump out babies. I come from hardy stock. Mother had five kids. Dad's one of seven. Genetics on both sides favor this uterus.
I'd prefer a cashier's check.
Nah, still not quite as good as
i_am_rachiv. Despite the crippling pain, I am not quite as sarcastically mean and wonderful. Fucking hell man. Whoever "designed" the uterus gives lie to that whole "intelligent" design bullshit.
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 07:41 am (UTC)Whatever-- when my 'livejournal turned novel' sells big, no one will believe I lifted this entry from you! Ha.
And, btw darlin'- I'm not interested in your uterus-- but I'll buy one of your good and bad eggs... I'd just like to see how those fuckers would turn out.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 02:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 03:16 pm (UTC)The problem with most of those ads were the people behind them insisting on certain minimum GPA requirements (which I more often than not met) and certain physical descriptive requirements (which I rarely did). They seemed to think it was perfectly reasonable to insist upon a 5' 8" woman to be both blonde naturally and athletic to a degree of weight they preferred, and still manage to pull down a 3.5. Talk about unrealistic expectation...