Put your tit away, I’m trying to eat!

So, I was in Costa today when some lady decided it’d be totally cool to whip her tit out and attach a baby to it. While I was eating. Not cool, lady!

Don’t get me wrong, I love nudity, and I love tits. But breastfeeding is one of those things that not everyone is cool with, and some people don’t understand that. I don’t need to like the idea of breastfeeding, and I don’t need to be ok with seeing it either. It was really freakin’ hot, and I’d have been happier topless, but I didn’t take my shirt off, because not everyone is comfortable with seeing a fat genderqueer without a shirt on, especially while they’re trying to eat. Breastfeeding totally ruins the idea of boobies for me. If I were ever to date a woman that wanted kids, or who had kids, regardless of the whole childfree issue, I’d be totally weirded out by her boobies from then on.

This event actually coincides with a story I’m sure you may have come across by now. The editor of some baby magazine said she didn’t want to breastfeed, as it made her uncomfortable, because her breasts are an important part of her sexuality. Of course, all the moomies are up in arms about it. How dare a woman want to have an identity outside of ‘mother’!

Let’s be honest, tits are pretty awesome. Even a lot of gay guys quite like tits. It’s the way of the world. And if you consider your breasts to be part of your sexuality, then that’s up to you. I’m genderqueer, and I still love my tits. I love that other people love my tits. And if I get really creeped out by the idea of a baby getting anywhere near my tits, that’s my business.

Why I don’t want a womb

It turns out that I was indeed pregnant, but not by the man I thought I was. You see, I just had a miscarriage. I didn’t even know I was pregnant, and it seems it was about 8 weeks old before it died. I’m lucky not to have blood poisoning or something, as the doctor reckons it’d been in there for quite some time. Ew. Thankfully, I was already in the emergency room when it fell out of me, as I thought I’d had my drink spiked.

Knowing I was pregnant makes me feel disgusting, if I’m honest. I’m sure my stance on pregnancy and children is already clear, but there’s another reason why I don’t like having a fertile womb. It reminds me of my sex, in the chomosonical sense. My womb is part of my unwanted womanhood. Hell, just using the phrase ‘my womb’ makes me feel bad. I do not want this womb within me. I do not want an organ that is specifically female and for the use of harbouring fetuses. I consider myself genderqueer, leaning strongly to the male side when it comes to my body, and a womb is not right for that.

I need to have a doctor who will understand this. My womb is not wanted. Having it is distressing, and this miscarriage situation is just another horrible reminder of my internal situation. I have a doctor’s appointment due tomorrow, to discuss the possibility of a D&E, to clean out any remaining tissue, and I will bring up my unwanted internal organ then. Hopefully, he will finally listen.

Pregnancy scare!

As you might know, I’m a serial ‘back-to-back’ taker of birth control pills. However, due to a messed up sleep schedule lately, I’ve forgotten to take my pills a few times, and then forgotten that I forget them. Unfortunately, this has coincided with the dissolution of my previous relationship, the acquiring of a fuck buddy. I’ll spare you the salacious details, but let’s just say… mistakes were made. Why did I not use a condom, you ask? Well, put simply, it’s because I’m know I’m disease free because I was tested after my rape, and he’s disease free because he works in an environment where he needs to be tested regularly. And of course, believing I was protected against pregnancy, I had sans-condom sex with him. Now, I’m going to have to get a blood test. I don’t see much point in coming of the pills and seeing if I have a period, as I haven’t had one in so long, god knows how my body is going to cope when I come off! Besides, periods make me get spotty. So, we’ll see, dear friends, if I am in fact pregnant, and whether or not an NHS abortion doctor is going to be due a patient.

As far as Insanity News © goes, I’m pretty stable at the moment. Apart from brief interludes of googling suicide methods, I’m getting on with my life a bit better. The fuck buddy is making me feel good about myself, my tattoo-in-progress looks great, and I’m going out on the weekends and meeting great new people. That being said, my sleep schedule is all over the bloody place at the moment, and I don’t know why. Hence why I’m updating my blog at 5 am and eating gingerbread.

In other news, there’s a whole bunch of BS going down in america at the moment in Oklahoma, regarding abortion laws. If you’re in the US, get protesting folks!

And one last things, my readers, I’ll be starting a new blog soon, called ‘Experiments with Leftovers’. It shall be a food blog, detailing my efforts in cooking with what I can find left in my cupboard when nobody has been shopping for weeks. Yesterday, for example, I made an omlette using Old El Paso chilli seasoning and some slightly stale cheddar. I enjoy cooking with left overs, and I can get quite creative. I make pretty good ‘whatever’s in the fridge’ stir frys too! So, keep your eyes peeled, for soon my culinary attempts will be found online.

Change in direction

Upon scanning my meagre archives this week I realised that proportionally speaking, my childfree related posts are only slightly more numerous than posts on other topics. This blog is becoming more of an outlet for my frustration over my mental health. So, I’ve decided to do a little change in direction here. Instead of waiting for something rant about, I’m going to post as and when I feel the urge. It won’t always be childfree related, but I hope it’ll still be of interest to you.

One of the reasons I’m having trouble ranting about childfree things is BECAUSE of my mental health problems. I have quite terrible anger problems, that work similar to OCD. I get one minor thing that annoys me, say, a conservative ‘friend’ on facebook saying something I disagree with, and for the rest of the day, I will be insanely angry. I will not be able to stop thinking about whatever it was. I can’t function. I start seeking out things to continue my anger, even though I know I shouldn’t.

I’m currently learning my triggers for this, and I’m avoiding things that set me off. I no longer go on the Daily Mail website, I have deleted any and all Tory morons on facebook, and I never watch the news. I have also stopped reading my google alerts for childfree things. It always chucks up something by a breeder whining about us selfish childfree folks, which is a guaranteed rage trigger!

This OCD effect also picks up on things I already feel, and warps them. For example, I really dislike kids, and I think pregnant women look disgusting (flashbacks of that scene in Alien). My brain will take this thoughts that I’ve always had, and turn them into something scary, such as violent urges towards kids/pregnant chicks. These are almost uncontrollable, and are triggered on sight. It is especially worse if the kids are loud and ill-behaved, or if the woman is doing that weird belly hug thing. I can’t be on public transport around kids, or I am in serious danger of snapping.

Along with all this, I am cripplingly depressed. It is hard to put depression into words. It’s not sadness, as such, just a feeling of utter hopelessness and negativity. I can’t function in social situations, because I expect to be bullied (due to a lot of previous experience). I am afraid of making a fool of myself. I am now utterly socially isolated. This has been the case for quite some time, but I admit, it is especially worse, of late. This is because I was raped. I have already posted about my previous sexual assault. This time it was ‘real’ rape, so to speak. I went to the local town centre to meet some friends, and, long story short, slightly drunk girls in high heals cannot get off the beach if someone is holding them back.

I have accepted that my mental illnesses are disabling, and I’ve applied for disability benefits, until I can get a job without having a break down. I cannot leave the house without my mother or my boyfriend, and even then, I still get panicky or angry around other people, like in restaurants. I have yet to receive the CBT I was promised, and every pill I have tried so far hasn’t worked. The mental illness has triggered my IBS and I now suffer violent bouts of diarrhea, where I have about 30 seconds to get to the toilet, or I’m fucked. This, in turn, feeds my fear of going out. Vicious cycle, much?

I think it will be therapeutic on some level for me to blog about my insanity. I also hope it’ll be helpful for anyone who reads this who happens to have mental health problems themselves. So yes, dear readers, this blog is taking a change in direction for now, at least.

I would like to finish on a happy note today. I have been conferring with my local tattoo god, Jay, of the famous Black Pearl of Bexhill. I’m after getting something unique, and meaningful, and I settled on a picture of Gene Kelly I found a while back. Jay reckons it is good enough to be in a magazine, when it’s complete. He likes the idea so much, he’s doing me a discount. I’m going to start work on it soon, perhaps even as soon as this Saturday. The tattoo will take a long while to complete, Four hours at least for outline alone. I’m considering this my healing piece. From the moment I begin having it done, I will be making an effort to change my life for the better, from the small triumph of having a sensible sleeping schedule, to the larger one of leaving the house alone, and maybe even volunteering somewhere. So, I share with you, the future of my back. He will be in black and white, and the umbrellas in glorious Technicolor.

Gene Kelly

What the WHAT?!

To steal a phrase from Liz Lemon, What the WHAT?! My school year is filled with crazy people, apparently. at least three of the girls who were in my year at school are currently pregnant with their first, and two with their second. In addiction to this, one girl has three (none of them multiple births), two have two, and one has one. It’s mental. The girl who’s got one only just had hers, and she’s posted pictures of the placenta, pictures of the baby, and constant updates of the labour including when her waters broke. Crazy.

It’s really weird. Not all of these girls were the ones you’d expect to get knocked up so young. I mean, one girl (we’ll call her Steph), was from a kinda crappy family, and from a pretty poor area, but she was a pretty smart girl. She sat next to me in a few lessons, and was a really nice girl. Sure, she was a little disillusioned, but I never expected her to just give up. And I do mean give up. I saw her on the bus, shortly after she gave birth to the first. I asked her how it was with the baby, but she just sighed and said “It’s crap. I didn’t want him. But what’s the point? I mean, what am I ever going to do, if I’m not doing this?”. Thing is, she was just so disillusioned with school, so dejected in this crappy middle class town that doesn’t respect or understand anyone from a poor background that she just stopped trying.

I don’t know about the others too well. The one that’s oversharing, well, she was always a bit dappy, and obsessed with babies. I’m pretty sure she was just after a living doll for Kodak moments. But the others? No idea.

I come from a poor background. I’ve always struggled with school even though I’m intelligent. I’ve always been a bit of an outcast. But I didn’t give up and give in by just churning out children. And I’m glad. Because if the others are anything like Steph, I’d probably have killed myself by now.

Ignorance at it’s best!

Ah! I realise I’ve been neglecting this blog a little since the last post. In all fairness, I’m on a new antidepressant that is doing funny things to me. I’m unable to sleep at night, and when I do sleep (usually during the day), my dreams are so vivid, I wake myself up. And when I do wake up, I have a good half hour of hallucinations. I’ll be changing meds soon if these don’t settle down!

But today’s post is not about my general insanity. Oh no, today’s post is about a rather ignorant woman I came across while queueing at the supermarket. You see, I have a lot of piercings. A lip, an eyebrow, 4 lobe piercings, and several rather hefty looking industrial piercings. I’ve just had a horizontal lobe done, in fact, and it looks pretty darn awesome, if I do say so myself! But anyway, I was standing there in the queue, waiting to pay for my meagre purchase of a cheap DVD, a bottle of rum, and a bag of apples. In front of me, there were two other people with at least 2 months worth of shopping each, and behind me was a middle-aged woman with a very obnoxious young brat, of around 5, who kept demanding to be picked up, put down, or bought candy. So, as you can imagine, I was about this close to a major freak out. While Bratley was rummaging in the candy near the till, I heard his mum start sighing and tutting loudly, obviously trying to get attention. I ignored her, figuring the queue was just pissing her off. But then, she tapped my shoulder.

What followed next defies all logic. I turned around and said a polite, if strained, ‘yes?’ and she replied with ‘do you really think it’s appropriate to go out in public with all those… things hanging off you!’. I looked at her and ground out an excuse me. she then proceeded to go into a rant about how disgusting it was for me to have the piercings, and how I was a terrible influence on children. When I told her to mind her own damn business, she started yelling at me, catching the attention of the surrounding customers, that she should sue me for child endangerment, because her little boy was traumatized from seeing my piercings. He, however, was completely oblivious to all this, and had just broken into a bar of chocolate. At this point, I was yelling at her to fuck off and leave me alone, and barely restraining myself from punching her. Fortunately, as she geared up to start on me again, security came and escorted her from the premises, and a staff member came to take her unpurchased items back. As he was gathering her stuff up, I saw that among her groceries, she had a box set of Saw movies, a 12 pack of ribbed condoms, several bottles of cheap wine and vodka, and 4 Durex cock rings. So, yeah, seeing piercings is traumatizing; seeing your mother’s sex products is not. Go figure.

Childfree characters, anyone?

(Warning: contains spoilers for the TV series Bones)

So, today I was watching an episode of Bones, from the first series. I must say at this point that I adore the titular character. She’s smart, hyper-rational, and an atheist to boot. Excellent! Even better, in the episode I saw today, she stated that she didn’t want children. The woman is my role model at this point. And I wouldn’t say no to working with Agent Booth all day either. Yum.

However, after a quick google, I discovered that in the later series, around series 4 or so, Bones decides that not only does she want kids, she wants to use Booth’s sperm to do it, without being in a relationship with him. How the hell did they come up with that? There’s no way in hell that such behavior fits her characterisation. She wouldn’t change her mind based on her biological urges. She wouldn’t want to raise a child outside of a family unit (because of a troubled family past) and she wouldn’t be so illogical as to want a child in the environment she works in. It’s stupid. Truly stupid.

Just once, I want a TV show to have a character, male or female, to proudly proclaim that they don’t want, perhaps even don’t like kids, and stick to it. Coronation Street has backtracked. 30 Rock backtracked. And Bones backtracked. Let’s all write to ABC, NBC, CBS, or any other TV company and let them know how we feel.

Pregnancy for infertility

If you’re childfree, it’s likely you know how hard it is to get a doctor take your wish to be childfree seriously. I’ve been asking about sterilization every time I’ve been to the doctors, since I hit 18. Of course, every time I get turned away. They won’t even give me an IUD or an IUS, because of the slim chance that I will get an infection or the insertion will go wrong, and I’ll end up infertile. I told my doctor that this would be the best case scenario, but no luck.

What bothers me, is that if I were to get accidently pregnant, then have an abortion in which my cervix were dilated, chances are, I could get an IUD/IUS inserted at the same time. If I were to get a tubal pregnancy, I might even be able to persuade them to give me a hysterectomy while they’re in there, if the damage was bad enough.

So, it seems the only way for me to become (at least temporarily) infertile is to get pregnant. Stupid, isn’t it? What’s really annoying at the moment is that I’ve received a cheque for £1200, because of a savings bond set up for me in infancy. However, as I owe my mother a lot money, and as we are in debt, I gave the cheque to her. A sterilization from Marie Stopes UK costs £1300. If you submit to a counselling session beforehand, and they believe you’re childfree, they will gladly tie your tubes up. The NHS will not. While I commend Marie Stopes for offering this service, it angers me that even in the UK, there’s two tiers of medical service provided.

If I were to go to my doctor and demand a fertility test, I think I would get one. If I tell him that my partner and I were trying for kids, I would get support. My doctor treats me for mental health issues. He knows I have a short temper, a violent streak, and I am agitated by loud noises. He knows I’m depressed, sometimes suicidal, and have a very short attention span. He knows my relationship with my boyfriend is volatile. He knows I live with my parents, and I’m unemployed with little chance of getting a job, given my current mental state. He knows I have an unhealthy lifestyle. Yet still, if I were to say ‘I want to have babies, but it just isn’t happening!’, he’d gladly investigate for me, and help me make it happen.

It’s sickening. I’m not old enough/male enough to know my own mind when it comes to not wanting children, but if I were to want children, I’d be welcomed with open arms. Even if I get pregnant and wish for an abortion, I’d still have to get two doctors to sign off on it for me. Silly thing is, I’m surprised I havent accidentally gotten pregnant already anyway. I’m notoriously forgetful with my pill, and given that I have only one sexual partner, I don’t use condoms. There was a period where I wasn’t taking my pill at all, for several months, and I was still having unprotected sex, partly because I just forgot, and partly because I know I can always get an abortion anyway. Yes, yes, I know, even pro-choice folk are supposed to abhor abortion as a method of birth control, but frankly, if you believe it isn’t murder the first time, it isn’t murder the second, third, or even tenth time.

It seems the only way I can become infertile is to save up a lot of money (impossible on Job Seekers Allowance), get chlamydia (would mean cheating on the boyfriend and exposing myself to other diseased), or get pregnant and demand an IUS at the same time as an abortion. Which is really stupid.

Things to click on

So, I’ve found a number of hilarious things online recently, but not all of them were childfree related, and none are post-worthy by themselves. So, I figured I’d do a round-up of everything interesting.
Firstly, here’s why octopi are better than mothers. I’ll leave it to you to decide which are better, but this guy makes a convincing argument.

The same guy has also ripped Twilight to shreds. Granted, it doesn’t take a lot of skill to do (have you ever read that crap?) but it’s hilarious, nonetheless.

If, like me, The Fresh Prince of Bel Air is the most nostalgic memory you have of the 90’s, you’ll love this video. There’s been a number of times when the God Channel has been Rick Roll’d, but this is even better.

I do not remember The Flinstones being ok making jokes like this, but whatever.

I suppose this one is only hilarious to gamers, but it made me and my boyfriend laugh so hard we almost puked.

And finally, my new favorite song.

Anchor? Analogy? Antiquity?

What do those words have in common, apart from  all beginning with ‘a’? Well, I’ll tell you. Some jackass thinks that calling a kid ‘Analogy’ would be a great idea. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I write fiction. So, sometimes, I look on baby name websites for inspiration for my character’s names. I use babynameworld.com the most, because it have thousands of different origins to work with, which is great if you’ve got a back story for a character requiring a Ukrainian name, etc. But today, I thought I’d take a look at the unique names. Big mistake. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at this list. For one, it looks like someone just blindly went through the dictionary picking out random words, and meshing letters together while hoping for the best. I mean, nobody can really want to call their kid ‘Avalanche’, can they? But then you notice the star rating. People can rate names. I skipped ahead a few pages, and say that ‘Ever’ and ‘Essential’ have ratings of 4.5/5. That means somewhere out there, somebody may have called a kid ‘Essential’.
So, if anyone who wants kids or is pregnant has stumbled upon my blog, please, read this post, and promise me you’ll never call a child ‘Dewayne’ or ‘Tamarind’, both of which have 4-4.5 stars respectively. I mean, tamarind??? It’s an ingredient for fuck’s sake. Calling a kid some of these names should be considered child abuse….

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