Bullshit Woman Pressures

This is Thursday.

I finished my last of 10 progesterone pills on Monday, and still no sign of the cackling Queen of Caca known as Aunt Flo.  (Worst. Party guest. Ever.  Shows up when you don't want her, no sign of her when you do.) If she's not here by tomorrow Bubba is going to have to creatively bang on the end of me like a stubborn ketchup bottle or smoke the bitch out with some sage.

On the upside, my skin looks terrible and they've stopped selling my pore minimizing face wash - so if any of you have any loose change or spare keys, feel free to store them in my face.

... Okay so I may or may not have a serious case of PMS.  Myself and the giant bag of kettle chips I've been inhaling, spitting and frothing all over the place today, remain mum.

If I did have PMS, I may be inclined to warn you that this post will inevitably contain some of my more 'colorful' language capabilities (and they're pretty colorful to begin with). If this offends your ladylike sensibilities (I can't think of one person this describes, but I'll throw it out there anyway) I will leave you with a picture of cookie monster.  Come back a post from now when I'm not hopped up on hormones, sodium and sweets.

(Source that you should be following on Facebook).

We good?

Okay.  Speaking of Facebook, I just posted this as my current status:

"Women of the world: Get married in your early 20s, pop out many babies in your late 20s, and when you've done those things, quickly back away into the shadows, and accept your irrelevance with grace. Skipping a step, doing them out of order or deviating from this plan in any way is to cunt punt Mother Nature."

Why the hostility, you ask?  Why post the phrase 'cunt punt' on a page that my 87 year old grandmother has access to?  Most importantly, why interrupt the flow of hysteria fueled statuses that have been happening over the last week, because apparently something heinous happened on the Tits, Swords and Dragons show otherwise known as Game of Thrones?

Because somehow until today, I have missed this lovely Ad Campaign that's going on. Oh, and here's the accompanying picture to the ad:

(Source).

Basically it's an ad campaign sponsored by First Response to remind women that their biological clock is ticking.  Because, you know, they need a reminder. 

Now I know that we as Ladies of Infertility are much more likely to get pissed off about this.  Seeing an ad with a photoshopped elderly woman pregnant (just a friendly reminder, ya'll!) is like being hooked up to a chemo machine and having someone come in with a megaphone and shout "HEY - you have cancer!  You should probably do something about that!"  But I'm not even coming at this from an infertile angle, this pisses me the fuck off as a woman.

I am well aware that it's important for a woman to have information on her fertility when she wants it - I think we can all agree that there is an amplitude of information available on the internet for when someone goes looking for it.  And please, show me a woman who has reached adulthood without the understanding that fertility is finite and is for the first time really going to understand it as a result of seeing this ad.  Nope.  Not for one second was that a scenario discussed in it's creation - the only possible outcomes discussed for this ad were whatever PC terms are being used for pressure and guilt.

I don't have a problem with the "take charge of your fertility" angle.  I have a problem with using scare-tactics to make your point.  I don't need a wrinkled pregnant woman to remind me that fertility is finite.

Speaking as a pro-choice woman, I can safely say that we would all be outraged if there was an ad featuring a very young pregnant woman with the tagline "Abortion: Something to consider at a certain age!". 

I am really just sick to death of is articles, ads, billboards, magazines, tv shows, etc. etc. etc. telling me what the fuck being a woman is and what the hell I should be worrying about.

When you're little, you have to like pink.  And princesses.

When you're a teenager, you should really start to panic about staying thin and dumbing down for the boys (you want to make them feel comfortable, after all).

When you're a legal adult, you should really start to hypersexualize yourself.  (But you know, not too much because then you're asking for it).

Early 20s, bag that man.  (There is a ton of wonderful info on this in aforementioned media, by the way, but may I suggest doing what I did and just hanging out in a tree with a very large butterfly net waiting for the one you want to walk under it).

Mid 20s, get married.  Fairytale wedding, preferably.  If you've reached your wedding day and you're not in debt, on Xanex nor have you bullied your fiance and attendants into performing a coreographed dance number, you've done something wrong.

Late 20s, pop out as many babies as humanly possible.  And start to cover your shit up because now that you're practically elderly, nobody wants to see that.

By early 30s you should be a cheerio dispensing, breastfeeding, baked good producing sexless ball of awful.  You should be a Carrie Bradshaw meets Martha Stewart monster, and if you can't manage that, by all means get yourself a pill or a wine problem. Or eat a lot of kale.  Kale solves everything.

Mid 30s to early 40s, you should have recovered from the previous description, have washboard abs, a thigh gap and be readily able to prove to anyone that 40 is the new 12.  If you don't accomplish that I'm sorry to say, any problems in your marriage are your fault.

Beyond 40s?  Step back quietly into the shadows, accept irrelevance, don't be seen or heard, and wait to die with a smile on your face unless you are Helen Mirren.

And as I said, skipping any steps in this plan, doing them sloppily, doing them out of order or gawd forbid deviating from it entirely means you are less than a woman... and you should probably be panicking because that next step is just getting closer.

Believe me I get that other people get pressure.  Being an honorary member of the gay man mafia of Los Angeles I can assure you boys are fed a bunch of horseshit about having to do things a certain way to be considered "men".  And heaven help you if you're a lesbian - the media pressure on women does not advocate a deep seeded love for Home Depot.

But it's not quite the same for men, is it?  I've met 40 year old men who casually mention that they'd like to get married someday and/or have children.  Casually mention it. There's not the same built-in, lifelong panic going on where they've been constantly thinking for 15 years "if you want this you're going to have to do it YESTERDAY".

So fuck this horseshit.

I already know I can't bake a pie, I've never had any interest in pink or fairytales and I sure as shit don't need anyone suggesting to me that I should start panicking about my fertility. I'm well aware that whether or not anyone likes it, making a family is no longer a simple or straight forward line.  For anyone.  For me as an infertile, for men, for the LGBT community, for sea monkeys, carnies, certainly the Starks on the Dragons & Titties show and even for perfectly fertile 35 year old women who just aren't there yet.  It's no one's fucking business to pressure you about where you are or should be in family building.

Much like people who blindly ask married couples "sooo.. when are you having kids?", people who imply "you're not getting any younger!" whether it be in words, ads, spelled out on some fucking beach somewhere or through carefully coreographed hand gestures should be brought out into the street and shot.

I can't believe anyone sat in a room and thought "you know what?  Women need more pressure about performing their womanly duties" and yet people keep sitting in rooms and deciding that we do.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to violently dismember a cauliflower for dinner... and my husband is going to eat it whether he likes it or not.