One of the things I love about my group of friends is our ability to talk absolute shit when we are together.
When we went away from the weekend, one of my favourite quotes was from my friend Lara, who was sober at the time who asked ‘Have we got anything milky to drink….like milk?’.
It’s nice to have friends you can go out and get wrecked with, but I have learned in the last 2 years, true friendship is being able to sit around stone cold sober and Google ‘Can you sniff Pro plus?’.
Last night, I wasn’t remotely uncomfortable about having to go round my friend Lisa’s sober.
She cooked us an amazing dinner, and I also was not uncomfortable about eating in front of everyone, as I am not one of ‘those’ people who believes if you eat in front of someone you will spontaneously combust and leave your pancreas on the ceiling.
What DOES make me uncomfortable though, is talking about childbirth. Even though I have ovaries, I do not want children.
1. Because I do not like children. There are 6 children in this world I like, that came out of 3 of my friends, and even they seemed louder last night without a bottle of red in my bloodstream.
2. I am a baby. I don’t even like the thought of constipation. Childbirth just does NOT fly with me.
I have a very manly point of view on childbirth. I believe a woman should go into a room, give birth, let me think of it much like a crumpet popping from a toaster, and then let it become something we never mention again, like the time they changed Irene for a bit in Home and Away, the time the government got it a bit wrong about Iraq having nuclear weapons and started a war for no reason, and how my Nan used to shave her eyebrows off and draw them back on.
It makes me feel light headed. I don’t need to hear things like ‘some people eat the placenta don’t they?’ while I’m trying to drink a Friday night coffee.
I am now privileged enough to know how long my friends were in labour for, where there waters broke and how upset they were that their Mum ate the Aero they were saving for after the birth. Seriously? If we wanted to bond I’d much prefer we all just went to Costa for a coffee of something.
I’m so clueless about childbirth I didn’t even know things ‘tore’ or ‘needed to be cut’ and I became SO SO jealous of my friends cat whose little feline ears did not understand the words ‘breech’ or ‘induce’.
I know it’s supposedly magical when you finally have the child who will, if they are anything like me still be living at home at 25 and not plan on going anywhere for a while, but let me put this idea to you:
I have a cat. When I wanted the cat, I saw on my friends Facebook she was selling kittens and said ‘I want a kitten’. I went to Sainsbury’s, got kitten stuff and she dropped him round.
Said cat cuddles me, and listens to me if I have had a bad day, but does not scream, outgrow clothes like the incredible hulk or shit or piss all over me.
See where I’m going with this?