To begin with you are just this unassuming animal, and nature or life of whatever uses you like a bio-puppet to do their bidding.
And than enters society from the left and scares you with all possible numbers, statistics, images, personal accounts and many of the possible outcomes.
Marching in comes science with all the health-facts and the list of forbidden pleasures or in some cases necessities just keeps on growing.
Do not eat sushi, or camamber, for god sake.
Stay away from peanuts.
Don't touch raw meat but cook fresh every day.
Bla, bla, bla.
And than you have to give up smoking, this most prescious of bad habits, and at that point you are having a full-blown identity crises somewhere between hounting image of the suburban housewife-maximus you are destined to become, and the fucking candel profile pictures af all the miscarried cyber-mums-not-to be.
I do not belong.
But let me have this child. My child.
I know life or nature or destiny, that you failed to deliver a proper blow in the past 3 years or so, I know you think it is highest time to break me again, lets do the phenix once more you humm, and it gives me the chills.
Wont it do, that I will be fat like never before? Wont is satisfy your hunger for dramatics that it will break my carrier, deform my perfect breasts and shred my vagina?
Don't you think it is a bit abrupt even cheap to take it away from me right when I willingly embrace all those changes?
Only the emergency screening will tell.
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