Well it's that time of year again. It's ma beeday, so time for your regularly-scheduled nervous-breakdown and the subsequent re-evaluation of my life.
April Fools?
I wish.
Ah, it feels like just yesterday I had turned 25. I was a carefree freshman, about to embark on a journey of YES!! and shenanigans. Procrastination levels were at an all-time high, and we saw record-breaking numbers on the man-index.
But what have I achieved in a year. As a person, I've grown. Slightly less socially awkward, more confident, brave and brazen. Career-wise, I'm at a cross-roads. I'm broke, and I live with my parents.
But, inevitably, my mind turns to the subject of... babies. This time last year I could picture a teeny, squishy baby in the crook of my arm. But when I zoomed out to the big picture, I was me running around and reporting in the Middle East... with a baby in my arms? Not practical.
But this year... I feel like I've unplugged my biological clock, removed the batteries, and it still won't stop blaring at me.
Gawd, can one of you just get preggers and make me "Auntie Ronnie" so I won't have to deal with a screaming poop-factory of my own?
Ah, I just need to get laid.
It's easy to want a baby when you have no chance of conceiving one, other than by immaculate conception. But the moment I'm sexually active, I'm fraught with worry every 28-days or so. Normal women lament that "special" time of the month. Me? I feel like I've hit the jackpot. Veronica - 195, Uterus - O.
You can look forward to more introspection in anticipation of ma beeday.
Goddamn you evolution and propagating the species.
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