Confessions of a City Slicker

Looks like Friendster’s team has not ironed out all the bugs after the blog migration yet.

I believe we are using Wordpress templates now. Wordpress is deemed to be more for advance bloggers because of its ability to integrate more widgets.

If you notice, some of my older posts are in italics. I also noticed duplicate posts in my list.

Oh well, I’m too lazy to go correct all of those. Besides, as long as no posts are accidentally “lost”, well, that’s OK.

The template will not display properly when I view my blog, but refreshing it solves the problem. I don’t know if other people viewing my blog also experience the same thing.

The one that takes the cake is that today, the email notifications that people have left comments on my blog during the past few weeks finally came in all at once. How many weeks of delay was that?

Bravo, Friendster Team! :-p

Since my last post on having kids, I got a few calls from people asking me if that’s how I really feel, to put it mildly.

Aw c’mon peeps, it’s not like it’s some deep dark secret or something. I’ve always made my preference of pets over kids very obvious.

But don’t you want kids of your own? How can your life be complete without your own family? You might regret it later on in life, you know, when the opportunity has passed you by, blah, blah, blah…well, I zoned out of the rest of their arguments after that.

We’ve been over this repeatedly in the past, so there’s no point going another round.

Let my eggs dry up for all I care. It’s not that I’m ever gonna use them.

I just can’t understand them. WHAT exactly is this desire to get married, have kids (not exactly in that particular order) and raise a family, anyway? Is life not complete without all that?

So I suppose a woman can be the most wonderful and filial daughter who takes good care of her parents.

Or she heads a global corporation as the CEO.

Or she shows compassion for the sick as a nurse.

Or she brings relief to the less fortunate in war torn countries.

Or she fights alongside her brothers to defend her country.

But all those don’t matter, do they?

Noooooooo….a woman’s worth is ultimately measured by her ability to push out a wrinkly, screaming baby into the world.

Isn’t it about time we throw this type of archaic mindset out the window?

If you look at it from that point of view, what does that make a woman? An incubator, that’s what, a breeding machine.

We are so much more than that.

The world has changed a lot since our Great Grandmother’s time. Life for a woman isn’t all about raising a family any more.

So many doors have opened to women since then and I’ll be a fool if I don’t open and explore all of them.

I’m not about to invest nine months of my life to carrying a big baby bump and waddling around like a duck. In fact, babies are a lifetime investment because you have to raise the kid, put him/her through school then college in addition to the other daily investments. The ROI for this kind of long term investment is pretty uncertain. Give me a retirement plan any time.

The fact that I refuse to make use of my uterus does not make me any less of a woman. I refuse to be measured by that kind of yard stick.

I will determine my own worth by my own yard stick. If I don’t measure up to the norms, well I couldn’t care less. The norms are irrelevant.

It seems the stork has been working overtime in my office because three of my colleagues are expecting.

Their due dates are calculated to be within weeks of each other. This is going to be a very muhibbah affair because the new arrivals will be of different races.

Of course being the only female left in the office who is not expecting, they are curious to know when it’s gonna be my turn.

“Sure,” I said.

“Let me know your due dates and around that time I will go get myself a nice widdle doggie woggie or widdle kitty cat, then we can all go through motherhood together loh,” I smiled.

Seriously, me and kids, we don’t suit.

I mean, kids are cute and adorable and all that jazz, as long as they are not mine. There is no sound more annoying in this world than the sound of screaming kids.

Maternal instincts? You’re looking at the wrong place if you’re trying to find any here. I ain’t got any.

Well, maybe only where big brown eyes and a waggly tail is concerned.

And if a woman’s reproductive system is not so important to ensure her well being, I would have gotten rid of mine long ago.