Confessions Of An Ordinary Whore

Ninety-Nine Problems, Being Your Slave Ain't One

Motherhood is one of the biggest traps set out before womankind. To be constantly aware of someone else's needs and fulfilling those needs is supposed to make you feel like you've found a purpose. Did the baby eat? Is the baby tired? Why hasn't the baby taken a shit today? These questions are meant to be continuously running through your head. In all reality, the only thing that's gonna be running through my head is whether or not I have eaten, slept or taken a nice big shit. Looking out for myself is hard enough and having the responsibility of looking out for another being is not something I ever want to experience. I'd rather go out and take shots than stay home and pat my baby on the head, thank you very much.

They say that you've never really lived until you've become a mother. Well, would someone mind telling all the men that, because I'm pretty sure they would be interested to know that they aren't even alive at the moment. I mean seriously, if your true life starts when you give birth then why are we women being so selfish and keeping it all to ourselves? Those poor men want to know what life feels like too and it's really cruel of us to keep the experience of child birth away from them. Because, come on, who doesn't want to experience the feeling of a giant elephant that thinks it's a fish swimming some sort of Olympic race, literally tearing itself out of your vagina? Like oh my gosh, that sounds like sooo much fun.

And okay, can we just talk about cooking for a second? Why is it my job to make you food? Last time I checked you had perfectly working limbs so you can go make it your goddamn self. Unless you're paralyzed or have cerebral palsies then there's nothing stopping you from making your own damn sandwich. Oh wait, except for the fact that someone must have misinformed you and told you that you were the fucking King or some kind of god. Like no the fuck you're not so you can just stop now. You honestly don't even want me in the kitchen because a) I would burn down the entire house and the only thing that would be getting cooked is your flesh as you die in a house fire, b) There are knives in the kitchen and you get on my fucking nerves, so I might pick up a knife and then “trip” and stab you, and c) I'm going to end up getting so annoyed with you that I “accidentally” put rat poison in your food instead of some sort of seasoning and since we don't live in that place where back in the day they used to make their servants taste their food before the royalty ate it in case it was poisoned, you're shit out of luck. So really, trapping me in the kitchen like I'm some sort of Rapunzel in a fucking tower is going to end up making you wish you had gotten up off your own lazy ass and spread the peanut butter and jelly with a knife all by yourself. You have hands you know, so maybe if you spent less time using them for your own masturbation and more time making food, we wouldn't have this issue.

Being a mother is a 24/7 job with really low pay. Oh wait, scratch that, you don't get paid. Lucky you, you get to spend years and years wiping asses, cooking food and saying “It's okay,” for free. Doesn't that sound exciting? Oh, you don't want kids? Too bad for you because apparently that's all a woman is good for. We are baby making machines that propel society into the future by providing fully functioning beings but you know, no acknowledgment or congrats for us because that's what god made us for. Oh man, the dudes are getting tired from working such long hours? Don't come home snappy to me because that's what god made you for.

It's a damn good thing I never want to have kids then (Or a stupid cat), cause I don't have to worry about all that bullshit. No wait, if I decide I don't to have kids, I'm doing something wrong and not living up to my full potential as a woman. I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I needed to have a baby to become a full person. Silly me for thinking that I was already a whole being on my own. Nope, need a husband and baby for that. But love doesn't exist, remember? So that's gonna be kind difficult. I think I'd rather say “Fuck you,” get drunk and have no burdens. All I have to worry about is me, myself and I. I'm not your slave, thank you very much.

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I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. We get to see some of the thoughts that Elizabeth has on responsibility and having someone be dependent on you. This chapter may seem a little off topic of where this story is going, but never fear! Elizabeth's reluctance towards having babies is connected to her new cat and her cat is connected to...ha, you thought I was actually gonna tell you that. Nope, all will be revealed in good time. But yes, in case you were wondering, the cat does serve a purpose in this story. Any ideas as to what that is?

Sooooo, you may have noticed that I updated before the last goal was reached. Well, let me just explain my reasoning. First, it's been over a month but we're still short one vote. One teeny, tiny vote and we wouldv'e reached the goal. C'mon guys, show me some love XD Second, a lovely reader asked me to update so me being the nice person that I am, I complied. And finaaaallllyyy, I make the rules therefore I am allowed to break them :P

Haha anyway, I think since you guys seem to be a little shy with those vote and comment buttons, I'm just going to go back to having the goals be views for now. So without further ado, the new goal is: 30 Views

Lets go guys, you can do it! I believe in you XD Time for me to peace out.

Love you more than midnight snacking,

Kay <3