1. Fi

    Heya, my Mum has ordered me to read the latest Marie Claire magazine this month at some point, because there’s an article about the female biological clock thing and what an issue society makes of it and how women thus panic and feel, like they can’t have kids if they hit 36 and have no kids yet, when actually we don’t need to be panicking that much, as many women have kids up until their 50s.

    I haven’t read it yet because I kind of try not to think about the kids thing, because then I feel panicky. :/

    • Malice

      yeah, some women do have children in their late thirties and forties. and some even later! I hear this argument a lot.. and celebrities who became pregnant in their 50s or something are often cited.

      but age related decline in fertility is evidenced in the research. like.. it just is. women are less fertile after a certain age.

      so I tend to think that those arguments and those articles in women’s magazines and “if Halle Berry can have a baby at 46 so can I!” are just a form of confirmation bias. I mean if I truly want to believe I’ll be just as fertile and youthful and whatever at 46 then I’d buy magazines that told me I could be too. I’d hold on to those rare celebrity outliers as perfect examples of what I can achieve.

      & just not think about how those magazines are probs not gonna publish an article about the hundreds&hundreds of women who can’t, even after spending several tens of grands of dollars on IVF (cuz who wants to read about that).

      in conclusion, I’m so with you on the not-thinking-about-it thing.

  2. Lucia as in the hotel in Portland??? Or some church in Aussie or something??? Wait a tick… are you related to the girl who put a needle in my face, and bought my stollen my interdimensional clone, um the part of me made out of cologen and air? She was all 80s out and working as a manager at that one place downtown made of glass, um, the retail place.

    She looked too much like you. We got caught up sleeping under a bridge two years ago after the riots that did and did not happen… time sort of stopped and played in reverse…

    come get me, I am totally kidnapped, and need the Stacy lice scrubbed off me with some dish soap. You know, anti-bacteria. Stacey as in the calico that scratches everyone who tries to the steal the car. Um, the 1960s Buick in Olpe in the trailor next door…. um, the one with liquor and titty magazines that everyone pretends does not exist so well: we sometimes walk through it and nobody really sees it until attention is brought to it, and the trees.

    Um, talk to Paula and Tammy not me, I am having a schizoid episode and need cookies, candies, cake, and pie. Lots of pie… oh and cherry coca cola.

    Next time you have a chance….

    I need to show you a better America. Its called Chicago’s Underworld. This America really blows, its where the medicine sucks, technology sucks, its totally amish, and nothing gets done. Too my mom is about to punch me before I manage to have her collected and put in an Arizona or Nevada brothel. Right? Like she owes me so much money and is such a damn turnip… I have to send her to collections with pimps, and even then the only way I will get my money out of that bitch is from the cannibals.

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