10 reasons why I’m not bearing children (an attempt at humor)

It’s not unusual to encounter a certain amount of incredulity when it becomes known that I’ve no desire to produce children.  I guess since I’m a woman people assume I’m destined to be a mother. I take offense to that.  Just because I have a uterus doesn’t mean I have to use it.  Think about it.  Just because you have that self-improvement book doesn’t mean you’re ever going to read it.  It’s just going to sit there gathering dust.  Just like my ovaries.

I’ve encountered a number of responses to this little tidbit of info: sadness, horror, even disgust.  People want to know what is wrong with me.  “You don’t want any babies??  I don’t understand!  You are a woman aren’t you? ALL women love babies!”  Well, it’s not without some consideration that I’ve come to my decision, breeders.  Below are ten damn good reasons why:
1) I can barely take care of myself!

While I’ve gotten better, I still believe that a bowl of cereal constitutes a satisfactory dinner and pickle juice an acceptable beverage.  The only things living in my apartment are: mold, mice (occasionally), and myself.  I can’t even keep plants alive, unless you count the potatoes that have started growing in my cupboard.  I think dogs are too much work and (even if I could have one) I’d barely be able to afford a cat.  A baby is out of the question.

2) I like a lot of time alone.

My favorite pastime is locking the door and getting lost in a book.  (Aside from masturbation of course, but that’s a given, really.) You can’t tell a baby you need a night off to “decompress.”  They can’t even understand speech,  let alone my weird neuroses.  I don’t even understand my weird neuroses.

3) I find pregnancy disgusting.

Most peple look at a pregnant mother and think “Aww, the joy of motherhood!”  I think “Ahh! You’ve got a parasite living in your abdomen!”  Seriously.  Fetuses have to trick the mother’s immune system into not destroying them as a foreign body.  Mothers, that kicking is something living inside of you.  Living INSIDE of you for fuck’s sake!  Why doesn’t that freak you out?  I’d be horrified if something in my guts started doing calisthenics.  *queasy*

4) I think babies are gross.

Most people think babies are little bundles of sunshine, the fruit of the miracle of life.  I, on the other hand, find them horrifying squidgy little larval creatures not even capable of holding up their own heads.  *shudders*  They are squealing waste machines.  I don’t care how cute you think they look in their jumpers.

5) Genetics!

I’ve never quite understood why people think so highly of their genetic makeup that they feel it necessary to pass it on.  I mean, I know it’s like, a biological imperative and all, but geeze.  If dude has male-pattern baldness and chick has a predisposition to cancer, that’s a shitty hand to deal your child!  Personally I’ve got heart disease, anxiety problems, and chronic depression running through my veins.  I’d prefer to keep those goodies to myself, greedy me.

6) There are TONS of children already!

How about all those kiddos who have already been produced, huh?  Adoption is the way to go!  The little rugrats need stability, love and affection. You need to feel as if your life has purpose (and a convenient excuse if they turn out fucked up- not MY genetics!)  It’s the logical decision, unless you want to eat them.  Just a modest proposal, people.

7) The state of the environment.

We produce an absolutely reckless amount of waste!  We regularly pollute our environment with not only un-biodegradble plastics, but poison.  Fucking POISON!  And I’m not even talking about radioactive waste!  Our fresh water supplies are dwindling while our ice caps are melting.  I can’t imagine leaving this planet to someone else.  It’d be like giving someone a present after you’d played with it, broken it to little bits, lit it on fire, and pissed on it to put the flames out.  It’s just rude is what it is.

8)  Money!

Everyone loves money.  You know who on average has less?  That’s right- parents!  I don’t care about your several thousand dollar tax return.  No, without children I might actually be able to retire before my hips give out unlike you schmucks who will be taking out a second mortgage to put your kid through college.  No, I’ll be on a beach somewhere while you are trying to figure out how to get spit-up out of your carpet.

9) My body.  My sexy, sexy body.

No, I’m not really that full of myself.  I AM vain, though.  I admit it.  I’ve already enough stretch marks, thank you very much.  I don’t want some tiny shyster gumming up the works.  And I want all my organs where they belong, damn it. I don’ t think it’s too much to ask.


Seriously.  Seven billion!  I heard it on NPR so it must be true.  Twenty five years ago that number was four point nine billion.  That means since I was born we’ve added over two billion humans to this planet!  That is insane!  It’s reckless! How long until our already over-worked land stops producing?  Before breathable air and fresh water are worth warring over?  Already a disgusting amount of people die from starvation, thirst, exposure.  I’m not adding another life to this planet knowing this.   Doing so would be pure unadulterated selfishness.

So! To recap:

Be selfish!  Don’t have kids.  You’ll have more money and be sexy, sexy, sexy.


Don’t be a dick!  Don’t have kids.  You’ll only fuck them up anyway.



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