B is for....

BABIES!
Actually, it's less about babies and more about how irritating it is when people tell me I'll want them.

"Just you wait. You say that now, but just you wait. You'll turn 30 and you'll feel different. You'll see. You will."
I'm sorry? Do you know me? Do I know you? No. I just met you at friend's house, or on a bus, or I'm in your taxi, or I'm serving you a coffee. And I don't want, and will never want, my own babies. Ever. Playing with other people's is great but that's all I need. I don't need one in my own home, screaming and running and breaking stuff. I just don't. And they tell you, as though they are all knowledgeable and you are a naive child with little life experience. Well I'm almost 27, which isn't old, as such, but its not 17, is it? I know my own mind well enough by now.

The same happens on exercise DVDs. The man lifting the weights or doing the stretches tells you, 'Stretch! That feels good!' Erm, it doesn't actually. I'm red and sweating and puffy and on the verge on a heart attack and I really want to sit down and get my breathe back. Don't you tell me it feels good! It bloody doesn't!