Guest Post: "Did my uterus text you?"

As a 30-something married woman, I have grown accustomed to the following question:

"When do you plan on having kids?"

I typically brush off the question. This is a serious and personal question, and quite frankly, not something that you should ask a stranger.  It's not the same as asking: "Where did you get those shoes?"

What drives me up the wall is when a complete stranger asks my age, my marital status, then deduces that I am childless and proceeds to inform me that I have a deadline to produce children.

Who gave YOU the right to give my uterus a deadline?

Turn 30. Insert Quarter. Produce child.

This question is as intrusive as asking: "When is the last time you over-drew your bank account?" or "When did you take a shit?" better yet,  "So, do you like it in the ass, or what?"

The questioning began the very day I turned 30. At a bar! My 30th birthday was blissfully blurry. I only remember 2 things: I lost my favorite pink Chanel lipgloss, and what the bartender with the low-cut shirt said when I ordered my 4th mojito.

"Happy birthday! How old are you?", cute bartender.

"30!!!"

"Oh, wow, you only have 5 years left to get pregnant."

What? Bartender. Serve me my drink. Shut up and earn your tip. If you want a bigger tip, bat your lashes. Only open your mouth to ask: "did you want another?"; "shall I put this on your tab".

If you DO open your mouth, make sure it is to say something so flattering that I will add another 5% to your tip. May I suggest: "You look too young to be 30!"?

Do not, however, share your opinions about my childbearing years. Did your Bartending Degree come with a Minor in Uterus-Whispering? In the rare case that your have a minor in Uterus-Whispering Studies, perhaps I would indulge you and listen to your opinions about when I should bear children.

Cesar-Now The Uterus Whisperer

Strangers think it is their god given right to comment on my choice to remain childless into my 30's. Granted, I took the road most traveled. I went to college and earned my degree. I worked hard to take myself on vacation, buy nice wine and take an occasional weekend in Vegas with the girls. During all of this, I met a man that I fell in love with whose faults I accept-even if  he doesn't put the toilet seat down. We got married and moved to the 'burbs to live in a 2-story house that we can barely afford.

As a married, thirty-something woman, it is expected that I pop out 2.5 children, a dog, a mini-van and a white picket fence from in between my legs-hopefully not all at the same time!

That's 2.5 kids plus a boat! From her crotch!!!

At a work event, which involved copious amounts of wine consumption, my colleagues welcomed a new member to the team. The "new girl" asked me, "Are you married?"

"Yes!"

Wait.  For.  It.  Waaaaaaiiiiit!

"When are you having children?"

I really wanted to say "So, do you like it up the ass?", but instead, I responded politely "Not yet". She sipped more wine and asked the inevitable: "How old are you?"

"33"

"Oh, wow. Well you better hurry. You only have until 35"

This was a logical segway for my drunken colleagues to begin detailed discussions of pregnancy, childbirth and in-vitro fertilization. Note: These are not topics for polite conversation, nor should they be discussed while enjoying a fantastic bottle of Pinot Noir. They women detailed stories about freakish multiple births, like Jon and Kate Plus EIGHT.

In Vitro = Freak Family

Freakish multiples is the stuff horror films are made of. This is the reason I always keep tylenol in between my knees, to prevent multiple freak-show births.

The next time someone reminds me that I must procreate asap, this will be my response:

Has my uterus been texting you? Did my uterus tweet ya? Did my uterus Facebook you and say "it's time"?

You are a fucking stranger. Shut the hell up and don't tell me what to do with my uterus. 

My Uterus Hasn't Told Me When. Why Don't You Ask HER?????

Happily Childless and 30-Something,

Suburban Housewife