SAA Ep. #38: What Century is This, Anyway?

One of the questions I like to ask little kids a lot is, "Can I be YOU when I grow up?"  They all kind of look at me like, "Um...?" and then say something cute like, "NOOOO!  Your name isn't the same as mine!" or "NOOOO! You're a girl, and I'm a boy!" or "NOOOO! You're already a grown up, and I'm just a little kid." or "SURE!  We can both be ME!"

The thing is, I don't want to be any of these kids when I grow up (and yes, I do realize that I'm 31 years old--it matters not).  I know what I want to be when I grow up.  I know exactly what I want to be when I grow up. 

When I grow up, I want to be a Medieval Princess.

I mean, when I first start thinking about it, it all sounds awesome.  I would get to wear those awesome dresses with the flowy sleeves, and my pale skin and my untamed poofy-curly hair would be the envy of all of those peasants with natural tans and bone straight hair.  I'd get to hang out with knights and/or Dragons all day--even if the Dragons wanted to eat me, that'd still be pretty cool--because I'd still be hangin' with the Dragons.  Incidentally, if I have a choice in the matter, let the record show that if I can't die painlessly in my sleep, I'd like to be burned and/or eaten by a Dragon.  If I have to die painfully, I'd rather my death be really stinkin' awesome.  And what's a more awesome death than being devoured by a fire-breathing Dragon?  Nothing.  That's what.

But I really start thinking about the whole Medieval Princess thing, and then the voice of reason kicks in.  And I realize that if I were a Medieval Princess, I probably wouldn't be literate.  And that's kind of a deal breaker with me.  I've gotta be able to read and write.  I also would very much appreciate having some freedom.  I'm no feminist, but I kind of like having some basic rights, you know.  In Medieval times, I probably wouldn't have any say in a lot of matters in my life because, princess or not, I'd just be a woman.  And women back then were only good for one thing (or so the mutton-eatin', mead drinkin' men thought).  Women were only good for birthin' the babies.  And I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies.

I have shared my thoughts on childbirth before, but I don't know if I've ever just spilled them out here in this lovely blog.  See, I love kids.  If I ever get married one day, I'd love to adopt.  I'm just not too keen on the whole getting pregnant/giving birth thing.  I mean, it's cool to see pregnant women being all cute and "glowing" and all.  I just don't want to be one of them.  The thought of something GROWING INSIDE ME for nine months doesn't make me feel warm and fuzzy.  It makes me feel like Sigourney Weaver in those movies with the aliens (what WERE those movies called??--note the sarcasm).  I mean, I'd be going about my business, then all the sudden this little creature starts moving around inside me.  I'd expect it to just burst out of me and start dancing and singing "Hello, my baby!  Hello, my honey!  Hello my ragtime gal!" 

I think I'm getting off track.

Yes.  Well, carrying a child inside me doesn't really appeal to me.  Nor does the thought of actually giving birth.  The thought of squeezing out a baby doesn't fill me with happiness and warmth.  And I'd be one of those women who would want to do it all without an epidural, because there is NO WAY I want anyone sticking a needle up my spine.  And I know they would have to do that if I had to have a c-section--and the thought of being AWAKE while having a needle stuck in my spine AND THEN WATCHING THEM CUT ME OPEN doesn't really fill me with happiness and warmth either.  So if someone can devise a transporter beam that could just get the baby out of me without any pain and/or needles in my spine, I might consider this giving birth thing.  Otherwise, I'm not really for it.  And even then, would a transporter beam be safe?  I'm reminded from a scene from ANOTHER movie.  "But the creature is inside out.  ...AND it exploded."

So yeah.  Not really into the whole "only being good for childbirth" thing.

Then there's the whole not having indoor plumbing and central heating stuff.  As annoying as technology is, I do kind of like most of it.  I guess it wouldn't be SO bad if I had servants.  I could deal with being a Medieval Princess if I had people who would do all the tedious work--like laundry, but how often did they actually DO laundry back then?  Once a year?  And how often would I be allowed to bathe?  I kind of like taking showers every day.  I wouldn't be too happy about all those quack doctors telling me that bathing was unhealthy whilst covering me in leeches.  I'd want to say, "HEY DOCTORS!  YOU STINK!  AND GUESS WHAT!  I STINK, TOO!  BECAUSE NONE OF US TAKE BATHS!  TAKE YOUR LEECHES AND GO BALANCE SOMEONE ELSE'S HUMOURS!"  But I wouldn't be allowed to say that, because I would be a woman who was only good for birthin' the babies.

Then there's the plague.  Um.  'Nuff said.

So maybe I was born in the right century.  I thought for a long time that I wasn't.  I thought that I was supposed to be born in a century of Dragons and knights and poofy dresses and equally poofy hair.  But now that I think of it, I kind of like light bulbs.  I kind of like being able to write a blog on a magical glowing box of happiness.  I kind of like having a purpose other than restocking the population of unwashed, uneducated, plague-ridden masses.  Maybe I was born in the right century.

But maybe I was born in the wrong decade.  Because if I can't be a Medieval Princess, I've always thought I'd like to be a hippy.  Again, the long unkempt hair and pale skin wouldn't be too awful if I were a hippy.  I'd get to voice my opinions in protests and be able to read and write and everything.

But hippies don't take baths.  So I guess that wouldn't work out for me so well, after all.