We, your ovaries, would like to immediately recall all of the good eggs we have carelessly released over the past 24 years. True, some of them were duds, and would have produced only dumpy, towheaded moppets with blurry features and a dull intellect. Some, however, were magnificent and would potentially have produced MacArthur Genius grantees, or at the very least polite and motivated children with some athletic prowess. Either way, we sent every one of those eggs out from our facilities with a good faith assumption that they were going to be fertilized. We did not ever and do not now authorize celibacy or birth control…and don’t get all bitchy and start making sotto voce comments about keeping rosaries off of us. This is not about religion. This is about time and destiny.
Did you know, Miss Smartypants, that a woman’s fertility begins to decline precipitously at age 27? Check out the graph, bitch. Science does not lie. Your chances of conceiving a child unassisted at age 40 are 10%. We know math is not your strong suit, but even you cannot ignore these numbers.
You have proven that you can’t be trusted with your own genetic potential. You want a degree, and a boyfriend, and a trip to Morocco, and “more time to figure out who you are” when we have been abundantly clear–and we are employing the royal We here, all unmoved mover and the energy of the universe and shit–that you have one job on this earth. ONE. JOB. One that you have not managed to pull off in all these years. Just pass on your genetic material already. Reproduce. Birds do it, bees do it. Every lesser life form is better at this than you. How do you live with that? Oh, but you were too good to get pregnant in high school, weren’t you? You always practice safe sex, because you are oh so enlightened and responsible. Well, save that spiel for your credit card company, honey. Your excuses aren’t going “ova” very well with us these days, if you catch our drift.
Yeah, we’ve been waking you up in the middle of the night, and no, we’re not sorry. Put on some damn stilettos, slick on some lipstick, and get the hell out there. You still have self-esteem issues over failing Algebra 2 in 11th grade? WAIT UNTIL YOU FAIL THIS ASSIGNMENT. Having no issue is going to be a huge issue, trust us on this.
We want those eggs back. Get them, now, or we guarantee you that you only think you know what ovulation cramping feels like. Think we are above blowing a cyst when you least expect it? Think again, sister. Just mumble something about salmonella and collect those suckers so that we still have a chance of coming together as a team and pulling this off.
P.S. Your stupid open relationship is the laughingstock of your entire reproductive system. Have some self-respect, for the love of God. We want a mini-you running around more than anyone, but sometimes we wonder about your decision-making abilities, we really do.
P.P.S. You’re thirty-fucking-five! Act like it!
Dear C-Girl’s Ovaries,
Go suck an egg.