Living with the traitor [by laura]

I think it's become obvious from earlier related columns that I really don't like babies. It's against my religion to have too much poop, puke, crying, diapers, milk, well, all things baby in my life.

Also: My sleep is sacred.

Therefore it's horrible and confusing when my body is working together with hormones and whatnot to try and convince me it's time to start bulging 'round the middle, and not just because I'm too fond of ice cream and don't exercise enough. I don't want babies. I don't like babies. And yet, I find my eyes wandering around and paying attention to children and babies completely unheeded by the instructions from me. And pregnant women. Everywhere I look, I see big, round bellies (in otherwise perfect bodies, which I think is just plain cheating!), buggies and freshly externalised offspring.

It's not nice when your own body turns against you. It creeps up into your subconscious and puts all kinds of silly thoughts in there, trying to wriggle past all common sense I possess.

Oh look, a baby. There's another one. This one's much older. A pregnant woman over there. O wow, look at that belly. What a nice belly. You like that belly. You want a belly like that. Oh yes, you want a belly like that. You could buy a buggy like that couple over there. And look at the dress on that little girl. You'd like to dress up a baby. Yes, you would. Babies are nice. Babies are gooood. Let's have babies. You want to have a baby. You really, really want to have a baby. Pregnant women get to have all the fun. Let's get pregnant. You want to be pregnant. Yes you do. Let's have a baby!

There's no way I can shut the traitor up. That's what I have to listen every otherwise peaceful moment of my life, when in the not-so-far-past I would just stare at nothing and let my mind unwind. In other words, my body's playing on two fields; on one hand, it's rubbing my defences with false imagery of wonderful motherhood (I'm sure it's wonderful for some) and on the other, it's not allowing my mind to unravel and connect with the greater flow of the universe, thus making it weaker and more susceptible for persuasion.

If a man ever joins forces with my body, I'll be in real trouble. Am I really no better than my animal instincts?

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Although otherwise common as muck, Laura claims the title of the Queen of Procrastination. She's also an expatriate Finn who spends most of the time inside her own head - out of which the words overflow on their own accord. Any resemblance to coherence is therefore purely coincidental.