Now, I'm sure many of you who havnt read the dictionary, or get your little 'word of the day' (trust me, it pains me to say that I know people like this) will not know what this means; thus, being the kind person I am, shall enlighten you.
Tokophobia is a fear of childbirth.
Dont get me wrong, I'm sure not many women like the thought of pushing an eight-pound child out of their body. But I genuinley have this overwhelming sensation of . . . not hate, but disgust, of the very thought of it. Perhaps I was born with a stone where my heart should be; as after the 'midwife' talk we were delivered (haha) on Friday, the majority of students - bear in mind I'm at an all girls grammar school, came away gaggling on about how much they wanted a baby.
I on the other hand, came out, wide eyed, almost pink in the face, squirming, gasping for air - okay, slight exaggeration. I did however, start to wonder, why is it that I do not want to give birth to a new life? Am I really that much of a commit-a-phobe, that the thought of being with anyone other than myself terrifies me, regardless whether it's 50% me?!
Poor mother, I sure know I wouldnt be best pleased if after nine months, I had this to show for it!
Oh I do feel a little mean saying stuff like that. Seems so wrong that I should be so ungrateful about children, when there are so many women in the world desperate to conceive. Don't get me wrong, it's not the whole 'having a kid' thing that I have an issue with, although, sadly, I do indeed have an issue with it, but my main fear is of the actual childbirth itself. Can you even begin to imagine what that must be like?
I wont go too much further, as some of my thoughts may be pretty graphic, and seeing as I have no idea who reads this, I will refrain. You can thank me later.
The only other main issues on my mind right now are money and boys - the story of every woman's life, I'm sure.
I hate though, how having a social life is so expensive. There is literally nothing you can do without having money. And dont give me that, 'love is free' bla bla bla rubbish. How do you suppose you see this lover? With the magic carpet which is solar powered? By flying on the wings of love? Nonsense. I'm a driving girl, and granted, it is a gift; the petrol . . . not so much. To go anywhere, to do anything, to see anyone, you have to be able to get there - and for that to happen, you have to be able to pay for the transport. And dont give me any of this 'walk' nonsense - because I can tell you for starters, there isnt even a bloody pathway.
With men, they're just a very weird species.
No, I lie.
I'm just very picky.
And I've also been given a sixth sense, which gives me the ability to be able to tell things very easily. It's more than a woman's inhibition, it's more like, I can tell things between people before they happen. It's more of a curse than a gift really, but hey, us folk with superpowers have great responsibility.
I also hate, about boys in general, and sorry for generalising, because I know you 'nice guys' are fighting for chances with girls, but the thing which annoys me, is how some boys think that they're so clever. Not Pythagorous clever, oh no - though please if you're a boy, take note that, intelligence is so attractive. Boys think they're clever because they think they can play girls; and they think that they will never find out.
Shotgun the one on the far left
Let me tell you this now, my dears, you are very transparent.
I could make a list of things which you do, which you think work, but they dont. Granted, if I was maybe a bit more soppy, a bit more pathetic, a bit more, dare I say it, romantic, they would be charming me all the way home. But unluckily for you, I'm not quite as 'blonde' as my roots suggest I am. Sorry about that.
On that apparently bitter note, loving and leaving ♡.
No comments:
Post a Comment