Dear Sylvia: CONFESSION – “Breeder”

A reader who prefers not to share her name sent in the following creative and unique motherhood confession.






We all stand in the checkout line,
waiting our turn to pay our due.
I shift my weight from left to right
knowing the movement will draw
attention to my brand new Jimmy Choos.
I flick my eyes over the checkout girl,
making sure they say screw you,
I’m nothing like you. Your bulging
middle doesn’t pluck my heart,
those quivering drops on your
forehead only prove how far apart
we are. Did I tell you I’m wearing
a brand new pair of Jimmy Choos?
It doesn’t matter that every step
and every click click click
brands me with burning memory
of all I’ll never do. “You’ll find
your prince” they always said –
and I wish they were to blame.
And finding the one (damn
John Hughes) was the only thing,
the only dream that mattered.
No one said and no one asked,
what will follow up your happily ever
after, because they already knew.
Baby one and baby two and they’ll
be everything in the world to you.
You’ll forget you ever dreamed
of doing more than breeding, and
all the hell you said you’d raise,
the lives you swore to touch, the
world you said you’d change will
change without you. Until you’re
standing in the checkout line
waiting to pay your due, pretending
that you earned that brand new pair
of Jimmy Choos.


To send in your own confession or Dear Sylvia question (about being child-free, about parenthood, about women who confuse you, or about relationships/marriage), email sylviad.lucas AT gmail DOT com.



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