Overnight almost, it feels like my entire Facebook home page has erupted in a spate of breeding.
It’s probably only going to get worse in time.
The horror, oh the horror.
Sure, I’ve mellowed enough that I’m not half as belligerent as I used to be. Which is largely for the benefit of the people around me and not from any personal mellowing.
Would you believe me when I say I’m even able to competently congratulate some one on their latest baby?
Probably not, if you click on that link above.
When I re-read that post I’ve linked to above, I think it could have been written better and I could have expanded on a few of the more relevant points more clearly. It could also have been better structured and perhaps expressed more rationally, but that would hardly have been entertaining or been a proper rant, with all the fury and crazed typing that a rant requires.
Deep down, breeders still enrage me. I cannot, just cannot, get my head around the need to have more than one child. I just can’t.
Rationally I understand the female hormones – the biological clock and all that jazz, plus the inbuilt genetic trait that makes an animal want to back up its DNA multiple times in case of death. (siblings = back-ups) But equally rationally the death rate is so low and the population so high, resources are dwindling….anyway whatever. Sigh.
Regardless, the sight of a pregnant woman still just makes me feel slightly bilious inside.
The other day I saw one walking down the street (I know how insultingly that sentence reads, but this is not a politically correct blog. Tough.) her belly button turned inside-out, poking through her top, which was stretched tightly over her distended belly.
I had to turn my head and look away. It made me feel faintly ill. Outie belly buttons on distended bellies just fill me with revulsion.
So, my Facebook is breeding. Pictures of people with their offspring all over the place, like some horrible Auntie-Uncle social network.
I am suddenly aware that I will shortly be turning 30. All the females of my acquaintance will soon be lining up, legs spread akimbo on that great breeding conveyor belt, smugly popping ’em out one by one. Content in the belief that they are performing some amazing service for the world at large.
Riddhi will probably be next I imagine…
DONT DO IT RIDDHI!
YOU’LL BE SHACKLED FOR 18 YEARS!
18 YEARS RIDDHI!!!
I look forward to closer friendships with my male friends.
Or making more child free gay friends.