Fucking ovaries. Oh, they seem sooo innocent, all fleshy and floaty like innocuous little flowers. I’ve left them alone for 23 years. I thought they’d be on my side, being part of my body and all. And yet, they do me naught but evil!
Firstly, they don’t even work properly. Sometimes they ovulate every six weeks. Sometimes every nine weeks. Sometimes every four weeks. Birth control pills don’t work. Nothing works. The insolent little sacs of gametes just sit there sullenly and do whatever the fuck they please, when they want to do it. Never mind that I’ve taken them to Walt Disney World. Never mind that they get regularly petted by my hot girlfriend. Never mind that they have a nice cushy little spare tire that protects them from the cold Montreal winter.
And do you think that they would get the secretion of hormones that determines my secondary sex characteristics right? Oh no, that’s too much to ask from the Delinquent Duo. I am hirsuite, with a not-so charming little patch of 5 o’clock shadow on my chin and body hair where no lady should have any. A 20-minute wax takes me 40 minutes. I have funny-shaped boobs, which at first I was coming to terms with, but I read an article in this week’s street paper and found out that this is a problem that is typically found in men. :eek:
So thanks for the estrogen deficiency, assholes.
They harbour little cysts that sometimes burst and release their fluid into my abdominal cavity, which causes crippling pain, and an immediate, urgent need to purge every single fluid in my body. Ah yes, The Twins are the ones to thank for at least four afternoons spent lying on the bathroom floor, sobbing.
And finally, there is the white-hot, killing jealousy that I feel when I see a baby, a pregnant woman, or hear about someone else’s new baby. The kind of jealousy that makes you burn with rage, and then seethe with helplessness and futility. I’m sure it’s not all them, but I’m going to stick this one on them anyway. They’re sure as hell not making me want a baby any less.
If I ever find out that hormones have an effect on pheromone production, I will have an explanation for my inability to attract a mate. And I will want to smash something. Even more than I do now.