Eggs
My roommate has requested that I write an entry about her eggs (I think it may have been a joke, but she should know better around me). She’s been mentioning them a lot recently. Something about only being fertile for so long, wanting babies, blah, blah, blah. I told another friend about it, expecting a little sympathy for my plight (after all, I’m the one who has to hear about it all the time), only to be shocked when the aforementioned friend confessed she’d also been worrying about it. She then proceeded to rub her side and coo, “Don’t die little eggs. Don’t die.” She had just turned twenty-five a few days ago. It was really funny at the time. Now it just sounds a little creepy.
I worry about a lot of things, my horrible haircut being at the top of the list at the moment, but hadn’t even thought to worry about this. Apparently I should be. Yikes. Okay, I’m now officially and totally freaked out. When did I get to the stage where all of my friends are worried about their fertility? And how do I get out of this hell dimension?! HELP! S.O.S.! Someone? Anyone?
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