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Baby Blues

I've been thinking alot about why I became so enraged by a story that was all over the news a couple of weeks ago.

It was a medical organisation that was making a formal statement that woman who choose to delay pregnancy until after 35 are putting themselves and their unborn babies at risk.

The first shot in the tv story was male doctor going on passionately about how women need to understand the risks they are taking if they are having children over 35.

Read: We realise that now 51% of the population are actually getting educated and into the workforce and might actually become the dominant sex in the next 20 years so we need to figure out a way to keep them barefoot and pregnant.

You laugh, thinking I'm a crazy bra burning feminist but as Reese Witherspoon said, 'my grandma did not fight for what she fought for, just so you can start telling women it's fun to be stupid.'

Woman - and perhaps society in general - seem to quickly forget that less than 100 years ago, we couldn't vote and most of our grandmothers were actually barefoot and pregnant so let's not kid ourselves that the time when we, like children, were better seen then heard, was so far in the past.

But I digress. As usual, I'm not meaning to make a political statement, only simply write about an experience so...

When I heard the good male doctor, my first thought was if the medical industry can manage to figure out how to help a man get - and keep - it up, surely we can invest in giving woman more options.

And what is this crap about defying mother nature? Again, I bring the male example into the equation. Surely someone had a plan when they forced men to stop having boners. Doesn't mean we didn't do research to change that!

I'm also trying to figure out if I'm just being a Peter Pan, wanting my cake and eating it too, wanting to continue to move all over the world and then SOMEDAY have kids. It's not like I'm looking for a partner, albeit a passively willing one. I've got one of those.

What I don't have it seems is time to do all the things I want to do.

And perhaps that's what made my blood boil, more than being a bra burning feminist, it's just another fact staring me in the face that there really isn't enough time to do everything I want to do.

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