Check out this excerpt from a post I wrote back in 2004:
The cause I would take as my platform if I was suddenly crowned Miss America or somehow found myself First Lady is ending the systematic genital mutilation of newborn males. If I ever marry and multiply, there is no way on this green earth I will let any doctor touch my son’s Zauberstuecke. Of course, I have no interest in having sons, I would much prefer daughters. Hopefully, in 30 years when I am ready for children, it will be possible to choose their sex.
Clearly this is something I’ve felt passionately about for YEARS. I am holding on strong that I won’t have to submit Jimmie to systematic genital mutilation.
We shall see.
I have submitted to so much over the last few months.
- I never wanted a blood diamond– but I am wearing one on my finger now.
- Never wanted to wear a white wedding gown– yet somehow my gown is white.
- Never ever thought I’d get married with a huge baby bump, I mean, c’mon… how tacky! Yet, I am getting married 7 months pregnant.
- Never thought I’d be living in NJ with their exorbitant property tax… and here I sit soon to change my residence and support the beast.
- Never thought I’d live with a man unless I was married to him.. and yes, I know that the wedding is just 8 days away but still…
- AND I am living in a house that isn’t mine… not being in control, that’s against my core principles.
The funny part is, I don’t mind any of it. Except the potential genital mutilation of my son’s Zauberstuecke.
The Rivers Rockabilly Trio will be performing at my wedding. Stu asked me what song would I like them to play during the recessional. I replied, “I Knew the Bride When She Used to Rock n Roll”
Well, I think it’s a hoot. Not sure if everyone else will agree.
Wedding is coming up quickly… less than 3 weeks. Lots of shit hitting the fan. Family members cancelling last minute. Forgetting to include other ones. Other stuff I don’t even want to think about.
I guess it’s all normal.
When anyone says anything, I just reply, “Look, I’m pregnant, trying to plan a wedding, trying to sell two houses, trying to buy a new house… all while running and growing a business. Cut me a break.”
Just found out the other day that babies actually require feeding through the night. I honestly thought they ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner like regular people. With that said, I realize I clearly need to take some baby care classes.
What haven’t I blogged about… since I rarely blog anymore… Turned 39. Moved out of the Donnavilla. Living in New Jersey with my fiancee. My fiancee! After having spent decades identifying myself as a singleton/spinster/old maid, the thought of actually getting married is more strange than exciting. I find myself living a domesticated life. I make a healthy dinner for four that does not consist of a pickle, some triscuits and a beer. Sitting down to eat with Eddie and his two daughters, I think, “How the hell did I get here?”
It was less than a year ago that I was dating douche bags and trying to numb the feelings of sadness and loneliness that encompassed me by drinking 3 Buck Chuck and watching the same La Femme Nikita episodes over and over again.
And now I have a baby growing inside of me. And everyone seems to delight in telling me horrible things like:
- You will shit while pushing the baby out.
- A yellow pus-like liquid will come out of your breasts before the milk comes
- Your breasts will get really hard and lumpy and sore from the baby suckling
- The baby will have explosive shits that go up the back and into his hair
- By not circumcising him, you’ll have to clean shit out of his foreskin
- The baby will piss all over you… ALOT
- Uncircumcised penises are prone to major infections and you might as well just cut off his penis and call him Betty.
I have to assume that there are some good things that happen too. Otherwise our race would have died out a long time ago, right?
I remain positive. I have no clue how I am going to do it but I will do it. I think it will be great. And quite honestly, I am ready for it. Shit and all.