Excerpt
I love my
life, my routine. There is absolutely nothing I would change, but then one
weekend, I had a phone call that was about to change not only my sacred weekend
but a part of me, too. For you to fully understand where I am coming from, let
me tell you a little about myself, I promise it won’t take long.
I come
from a very religious background. Regardless of my parents’ preaching hellfire
and brimstone, I have spent my entire life rebelling, unlike my younger sister,
Wendy, the role model of morality, who has done it all by the big black book:
courted, engaged, married and now raising a family. Although I am a successful
freelance journalist slash writer, when I introduced Steve to my parents,
straight away they knew he was the ideal husband for their then-twenty five
year old daughter. Finally, I had found a man who could add stability to my
life of debauchery. Steve is a morning presenter on one of Nottingham’s local
radio stations, and the only son of Clive Rutherford, MD and Susan Rutherford,
a respected pediatrician.
However,
Steve and I have been living in what my parents call ‘sin,’ for the past eight
years. We are so happy with our life, but to their disappointment, there are no
signs of wedding bells or the patter of tiny feet on the horizon. Why?
Because,
I hate babies. Well, perhaps hate is a little strong, and honestly speaking,
how can I hate something I don’t know a bloody thing about? Don’t misunderstand
me, of course I’m fully aware of the biological know how, of how one gets a
baby. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of the practical, but NEVER, NEVER, have
I been tempted in the least to follow the experiment through. I personally
think all men’s willies should be tattooed with a baby warning, like the
stickers you see about dogs and Christmas in the back of a car window. It
should read: A kid is for life, not for one night of sex.
And
another thing, what is all this crap about my biological clock ticking,
or we just know when we are ready to start a family? So, what do these people
do? One night they are sitting watching their nightly soaps and the wife
instead of saying, “Shall I defrost a chicken for dinner tomorrow?” says, “I
think we should start a family.” Then the husband considers for a moment,
during an advert, and replies, “O.K. love, but after I’ve watched the news.”
So now,
you know that I, Polly Wilkins, am not in the least bit maternal.
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You're not alone. Kids don't do much for me either. Gasp! It's so shocking when people hear that so much of the time. Though I do get a kick out of how every new hairdresser I try doesn't know what to talk about after I drop that bombshell.
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