Listen, I don’t want to sound ungrateful here. I know I was chosen out of hundreds to be this month’s egg. I understand the magnitude. Plus, the body had to pay for my travel, my nutrients, my upkeep. They even had to redecorate a little and spruce up the uterine walls. But, how long do I have to wait around twiddling my thumbs? There really aren’t any takers? I’ve already been here a few days.
Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding. I was told there would be a mystical process where this hottie sperm would bump into me, rom-com style. He’d help me pick up my books and then ask if he could attach to me. After a brief spontaneous dance number, I’d agree. Boom! Fertilized.
I’m pretty sure that’s what’s supposed to happen. The ovaries love to gossip, so take that with a grain of salt. Oh, the ovaries did mention something about a deadline of like…5 to 6 days? I think that sounds right. I think it’s 6? After that, they said I just sort of disintegrate. They did say I can become a blood clot which seems a little more “me” than just wasting away. I like the wow factor, but we’ll see how I feel in the moment.
Oh, I better make this count then. What’s this girl doing right now anyhow? These are my prime fertilization hours. Okay, sounds like she’s sleeping, so I won’t be meeting any hotties just yet, but once she wakes up we can get down to business.
There really aren’t any takers yet? No one is interested? I’m doing what I can to make this girl hotter. I even raised her voice a little and made her smell sweeter. She usually smells like soap, but today she smells like a fresh flower. I’m bringing her from a 7 to an 8 (snaps fingers) like that. I’m over here working miracles. Meanwhile, I got the establishment working against me.
We got the stomach bloating and the hair frizzing up. You don’t even have to tell me that pesky skin is gumming up the works too. She loves to smatter zits all over the jawline. She calls it her “artwork” and says we all “don’t get it.” If we were on Survivor, the skin would easily be voted off the island. The heart would totally win though. That girl’s got pep.
As time ticks on I’m starting to totally understand Lana Del Rey. Guess this month wasn’t so lucky after all. In the distance I can see the hormones starting to renovate my little home, ripping down the walls and putting up sheetrock in its place. Tacky. Welp, I got a clot to form. Better luck next month!
