September 15, 2006 - 9:18
Why do perfumes always have the most embarrassing names?
Dawn gave me a pile of mini fabric scraps this morning, and they fit well together, so I think i'll use them for a doll's blanket for Christmas. It's true that little girls are distasteful and generally prefer what's pink and flammable to clothe their dolls; but when they get older I imagine they'll hold the handmade items in loving rememberance of their Aunt who died some years before, poor and backwards, after a half-fought battle with complications resulting from a botched egg extraction.
Which reminds me of the time when I was too young, and my mom mentioned in passing that girls were born with all of their eggs- and if you can't imagine, this notion was incredibly unsettling to me. It made me feel like my body already had a plan laid out for me and I couldn't do anything about it. Like I had dozens of unborn babies hanging out, dormant through my sexless years, but just waiting for the right time to emerge. Such haunting imagery for young Rachael, then compound it with the fact that I was told with no uncertainty, since literal toddlerdom, that I was put on earth to reproduce. I wish they'd stop telling children that.
Don't they know they're churning out nothing but crazies?