Oddly, this makes mothers all the more determined to force me to hold their little bundle of joy, as though if I'm tortured long enough, I'll suddenly be overcome by Stockholm Syndrome and love babies more than anything in the world. (A private note to all mothers: I'm sure your baby is wonderful. I STILL don't want to hold it. Your child might have rainbows coming out its rose-scented bottom, but I can guarantee you that it will not miraculously convert me into a baby lover. Kthksbai.) Clearly, I have cold hard lumps of coal instead of ovaries.
But although I'm a renowned baby hater, I do actually enjoy shopping for baby stuff - the little socks, the weensy outfits, the cozy fabrics...I just love it. I'd spend hours perusing baby stores if it didn't make me a creepy freak. But luckily, my friend Elise is incubating some womb fruit as we speak, and since she's having a baby shower next week, I got to indulge in my fetish today. Sneak peek:
And baby goodness.
And more bows. (I didn't learn how to properly tie a bow until I was 25, so now I put them on everything.)
And snuggly teddy bear prints.
And soft furry cuddles.
The cuteness just slays me. I hope you like it, Elise! You can thank me by not making me hold the baby (which I'm sure will be the most wonderful on the planet and whatnot). Deal?
P.S. Pregnant women and mothers sure are an education, aren't they? Why is it that they like to discuss horror stories all day long ("My morning sickness was so bad, I threw up the YooHoo I drank in sixth grade!" "My stretch marks were so severe that they cracked and bled!" "I was in labor for 36 hours and then my nether regions tore open from stem to stern!") before cheerfully asking you when you're planning on getting knocked up, while you feel your womb is shrinking in fear? Oh, and I really could have gone my whole life without learning the phrase "mucus plug." I'm just sayin'.