Hinky Dinky Do.

I am in the category labeled "DINKY" (Dual Income No Kids Yet)...okay, maybe I'm just a DINK. I'm 29 years old...and I have no interest in kids.

What prompted this blog was that I saw a friend in the tunnel as I was heading to the Chase Tower for my morning Starbucks run. I have known her for about 8 years. I asked how she was and she said 'pregnant'...thank goodness, because she was wearing a jogging hoodie and I didn't want to offend her if she was just getting heavy.

I feigned a delighted reaction and said "Congratulations! You look great!" And as I walked away, I realized I didn't hug her or touch her belly or anything that most people do when they find out about a pregnancy. I thought it was contagious and I subconsiously did not want to take that chance. I couldn't help but think "I'm glad it's not me", but she was probably thinking in her mind "I feel so bad for her that she doesn't have this joy".

For one, some people have NO business being pregnant. I am one of those people. I can't see myself voluntarily putting my body through something like that. Your belly swells up to the size of a watermelon and if you are lucky, your boobs get huge. I'm not so concerned with that part. I'm guaranteed a C-cup before and after. Thanks Dr. P!

Another issue is stretch marks. PULEEZE! I hear about some women who boast they have no stretch marks. Well good for you but I'd be the one with a relief map on my tummy. Lastly, at the end of nine months or so, you have endure the torture of giving birth to push out this wriggling alien. I imagine it is like shoving a wet St Bernard through the cat door. It's not for me.

I'll wait for the Matrix style of procreation when I can grow my baby in a jar like a sea monkey.

Another thing is that I'm really selfish. I admit it. I love my two seater convertible. I love my morning Starbucks and my evening glass of wine. I love sleeping in and having sex anytime, anywhere and not worry about locking doors or making sure the kids are occupied. I like like the fact that I can jump up at a moment's notice and go to a restaurant. With a kid you have to haul all this stuff to the car just to go to the corner store. I'd forget the kid. There would be a stuffed animal in the car seat...and I'd probably never notice.

I have no patience. I get pissed off at the cats for walking in my way; what chance does a toddler have? Plus, after the trick or treating event on Tuesday, kids just aren't good to have conversations with. I'd lean down and say "Hi, you're a cute penguin/ghost/dog. What's your name?" the kid grunts, points in my house and says "cat". Good job. I can't really get into it. I don't relate. I don't see the interest in having a child around.

A coworker said that it's amazing to watch his children experience new things and that he sometimes just looks at them and is in awe of the fact that he created them and they are a part of him. I create a lot of things...like dinner and a fantastic origami swan from tin foil, but I guess the pride and awe is different.

I think my biological clock is broken.