It's no a secret that I have a serious love for reality television programming. No, I don't like American Idol or any other show where people might better themselves. I'm more interested in docu-dramas like Secret Lives of Women and the Real Housewives franchise; I also might start watching the A-List Dallas because I heard it's going to be insane. But I definitely have a soft spot for The Jersey Shore. Say what you will about their defamation of Italian culture and how they misrepresent a generation. I grew up in Brooklyn, NY and I met many a guido that would have done worse than these six tan-aholics. I'm speaking about you Richie. Nevertheless, I watch the show with fervent enthusiasm and I deconstruct every episode, every line, and every hand gesture for deeper meaning. However this curiousity of mine led me down a dangerous path after last week's episode.
For the unfamiliar, this week Snooki's boyfriend, Jionni (physically a male version of Nicole), came to Italy to visit her. She acts skanky, they get into a fight, mayhem ensues, yadadada. What caught my interest the most, was Snooki's reference that she hopes that she has a C-section when she gives birth to a guido/guidette because she doesn't want to mess up her cuca (I know this sounds like Dothraki to some of you, but read on). Now I had always believed that most women would prefer a vaginal birth as opposed to a Cesarean (If I have any male readers, I apologize. I didn't know you existed). Sure your vadge gets fucked up in the process, but who wants to have an ugly scar around their midsection?
So this morning, during my 30 minute train ride to work, I decided to look up the pros and cons of a natural cuca birth versus a c-section. I will tell you now, that I got off that train a different person. First of all, having a baby is no joke. People always draw photos of doves and storks and shit around babies. This is not accurate. Babies might look cherubim when they're nestled in their blankeys and have ruby red cheeks, but when that shit is gestating inside of you, it looks more like a tadpole, or a seamonkey, but bigger. Could you imagine a giant seamonkey? Does that sound cute to you? Fuck outta here.
So not only is it not cute, it takes 40 weeks to get cute. 40 EFFIN WEEKS!! Now I'm not a patient person, but I can't imagine having something inside of me for almost ten months. It's walking around inside of you, poking at your insides and kicking you when it's doing yoga. It's really a form of domestic violence. The child is literally distorting your internal organs to make more room for itself. Now you're covered in stretch marks. And yes that is completely vain and the miracle of life is worth a few stretch marks, but to fuck up my kidneys and bladder is a bit much.
Also babies eat all of your food. Not cool. Do you know how much money a baby costs before it's even born? There are doctor visits and prenatal vitamins. You have to eat all the right foods meaning no sushi or alcohol. I've been sober for three weeks and I've been suffering from the shakes the entire time. I'm almost at the point of delirium where I think water tastes like vodka. Yum. Basically a baby is a parasite. A tape worm if you will. But with a tapeworm you get the added benefit of having an unlimited diet and you lose weight. So I can eat shit, but not look like it? Sign me up. If a baby did that, I might have an entire flock by now. And a tapeworm doesn't kick you; but I'm sure it does other horrible things. Whatever. The point is: Babies don't seem like fun.
So after I've gotten over my general distaste for infants, both newborns and gestational, and my maternal hormones are kicking in, coupled with society's pressure (my mom) to procreate, I have to decide on a birthing plan. Now there seem to be unlimited options from whether I'll be having a water birth to being high on Ecstasy (I'm leaning towards the latter), but the most basic decision is if this child is being released into the wild from my lower abs or from my vadge. Let me tell you, neither one seems fun.
You can either break your cuca (and your rectum in some cases) or never be able to sit properly again. So I guess it boils down to whether I want to have sex again or whether I want to wear a bathing suit again. The sad part is that I'll probably want to do neither once I start having kids. I hear they take up a lot of time and your sex drive. So I'm basically asking my future friends, when I start having baby fever and ask you whether Malachi or Monroe seems like a good baby name, please slap me, show me a picture of an angry seamonkey and remind me of this article. Because regardless of what I decide, at least you can say you tried to help me.