Reasons why I don’t have kids #29 (warning: contains graphic verbosity)

So, having just caught up with this fashion segment about sale bargains (featuring my friend’s fashion company for pregnant women called Heavenly Bump), on popular British daytime show, This Morning; I cast my mind to how I might have fared during pregnancy. What I noticed on the show, apart from the gorgeous dress for mamas, was how bloody beautiful the model was, all lithe limbs and glowing skin, and how neat her bump was. She looked like she’d shoved a (very tiny) cushion up there.

Obviously, it’s not the first time this has crossed my mind, having of course, shared time with several pregnant friends over the years, who all looked wonderfully, blissfully, serene and healthy.

Conclusions:

All other women on the planet pregnant; glowing, blooming, neat bump, lithe limbs, clear skin, glossy hair.

Anne Pank (predicted) during pregnancy: (I need to bullet-point this for emphasis)

Fat, ALL over – MASSIVE arse, HUGE knockers, the upper arms of a German shotputter – ten years after she was at the Olympics, has let herself go and gained 10 stone; in her upper arms. Porky feet, swollen fingers, flabby eyelids, earlobes and teeth. N.B. This is based on evidence, my mum was ball-shaped when she had my brother. It’s probably hereditary.

Piles. I just know I’d be that expectant mother that needs to carry around a very special cushion. And everyone would know what the very special cushion was for. I got them, stress induced, at the end of my final year of university, imagine the carnage nine months of pregnancy would wreak.

Thinning hair and crumbling teeth. Because knowing my luck, I would be the unfortunate woman carrying a real life equivalent of Rosemary’s Baby. Quite literally sucking the life out of me.

Acne. Even at the age of ~~forty three~~, thirty nine, once a month at that very special time, I still get hormone induced spots. My body would go batshit crazy with nine months worth flooding my system. I’d probably have it on my toenails.

Exhausted. Like really, REALLY knackered. Imagine the most tired person you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and multiply it by infinity. If I’ve been tired, read grumpy, these last few weeks, because I can’t get more than six hours sleep, imagine what kind of Hellish harpee I’d be with 10 extra stone (see above) and a bump that won’t allow a comfortable sleep for more than thirty seconds.

I never really fancied the above level of discomfort for any significant period of time in my life, and so that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #29.

Please note: I am available for freelance graphic design work. Call me.