Posted in Writing

What I think about when my body is crying the tears of a disappointed uterus

1. How on God’s green Earth did it take me almost two decades to notice that Jeremy Beadle had one tiny hand? Growing up, I saw more of him than my own father – and Beadle died in 2008 so why do I give a shit?

2. I wonder how many puppies are being mistreated right this very second.

3. Pretty sure I wasn’t this fat 5 minutes ago.

4. Watership Down.

5. At least I’m not pregnant. Although, people can still get their period when they’re pregnant. I could be pregnant. I should be pregnant, I’m fucking 35. Do I think this is a game?

6. Hmm, I seem to be suddenly incapable of doing my job. Let me stare at this pen for 20 minutes and get sad about over-laden donkeys in remote Morocco.

7. Oh my God, that text I sent two years ago to the guy I was casually seeing with the inappropriate joke that went down like a shit sandwich. How embarrassing. *Followed by me making an incoherent noise and touching my face like I’m trying to take my skin off*

8. Fried chicken.

9. Oh wait, I can’t be pregnant. I haven’t had sex in months.

10. I haven’t had sex in months 😥

11. None of this matters. I’m going to die of toxic shock syndrome next week.

12. I don’t think I ever want kids, everyone makes them sound about as fun as hemorrhoids.

13. I miss Super Mario Brothers 3. Let me cry about how much I miss Super Mario Brothers 3 because playing it on emulator is just not the same, and then I realise that I miss a game that never truly existed, which pushes me over the edge into the great abyss of depression where I contemplate if anything good from my childhood was ever real. What is life? What is love? What is Mario?

14. Whatever happened to Beppe off Eastenders?

15. Is anyone really happily married?

16. I should stop drinking. For a few hours.

17. I really need to write down all the awesome plans I have for my funeral and send them to my mum so she knows what to do when I die of toxic shock syndrome next week. The thought of someone else choosing my funeral song is making me nauseous.

18. I bet BBQ’d dinosaur meat would taste fucking delightful.

19. That was probably my last decent egg. Hello barren wasteland.

20. That story my mum told me in 1986 about a blind orphan that nobody wanted.

21. One month until my boyfriend moves here, which equates to one month until I begin my journey of transformation. I will become a new woman. I will stop drinking so much beer and I will join a gym, I will nurture a routine and I will moisturise every day. Our sex life will never fade. Ever. Twice a day for the rest of our lives is a completely realistic and sustainable goal.

22. There are no Wine Gums in this vending machine. What kind of “office” is this, and how do I join the Union?

23. Actually, I do want to have kids. I shall have a child who skateboards and will one day save the world and/or be good at drawing.

24. Who knew pancakes made such great spoons?

25. My boobs hurt. Definitely cancer. I think I’d wear a blue head-scarf if I had cancer, I’d wear a wig if I was going to something fancy though, like a wedding.

26. I want to get drunk with Adele and Jeremy Corbyn.

27. Everyone hates me.

28. I need to poop, but I am not in a safe enough space to commit to the unpredictable farce that is a period poop. Utter carnage that requires complete privacy. You got yourself in a real bind here young lady.

29. I wonder what it feels like to walk home alone at night and not worry about getting raped by every single person who walks past.

30. Didn’t get raped, which means it remains biologically impossible for me to be pregnant. Also means I still haven’t had sex in months.

31. The woman on the Secret Escapes advert is a cunt.

32. Time for a nap.

33. Why do I feel so unbearably awkward eating bananas at work? I’m not in high school anymore.

34. I’m not in high school anymore 😥

35. I am absolutely terrified of having kids. Some days I want them, some days I don’t. The truth is, I want them, but the fear of doing a bad job is utterly paralysing.

36. My uterus feels like it’s tumble-drying an arsenal of medieval weapons.

37. I should volunteer for a charitable cause, like having lunch with lonely pensioners.

38. Put the dungarees down. You cannot pull off dungarees anymore. No matter how much you might think you look like a white Lisa Lefteye Lopez, you are from Bridge of Don. You are not, and never will be, ghetto chic.

39. I am removing myself from all social media immediately. I am surrounded by retards.

40. Looks like I’ve successfully made it through another blood bath. Oh, the return of rationality is such comfort…although it’s still entirely possible I may be pregnant.

magician cat