I’m done having babies. Like, so done. I’m done having babies to the point that when I see a baby my ovaries scream at me in such a way to remind me that I’ve had babies and I DON’T WANT ANY MORE BABIES. I’ve also gotten rid of all my maternity clothes so unless we’re going to buy hundreds of dollars worth of boutique maternity clothing (not that I ever had boutique maternity clothing but I would definitely want it if we got pregnant again), we aren’t having any more babies.
You don’t want to get a vasectomy. Fair enough. I know it’s intimidating wrapping your head (sorry, didn’t mean for that insensitive pun there) around a simple, relatively painless, 15-minute procedure. I’m sure I can be empathetic of it CONSIDERING I PUSHED OUR BABIES OUT OF MY VAGINA after a 10 million hour labour. But…your body, your choice. I dig it.
I don’t want more babies. You don’t want to lose your ability to have more babies in case I finally actually leave you. Fair.
So, what do we do to appease both of us?
We have a few options for the best birth control to use.
I’m not a fan of most of them, except for one:
They might be a nice idea but your whining about the use of condoms often takes the pleasure out of sex (although maybe your whining could cover up my vagina fart). I agree, they’re really the best birth control for having a whole lot of fun-unless they’re used as balloons…balloons we maybe shouldn’t use at the kids’ birthday parties.
Hormonal birth control.
“GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK!! Oh, I’m so sorry I yelled at you *wipes tear*. Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahaha.”
You like that? That will be your life if I have to remember to take a tiny little hormone-altering pill at the same time every day. Also, I forgot to pick up our kids from school the other day; do you really want this whole birth control thing to be on me?
It’s probably the best of all the options but it’s still not awesome. You see, there’s a foreign object inserted into my body for an extended period of time. Considering I’ve spent a considerable portion of my life already with foreign objects in my body (babies) I think I wouldn’t mind taking a break.
Speaking of simple, relatively painless 15-minute procedures let’s hop right on over to the other end of the spectrum.
I’m 150% game for this. Wanna know why? My Battery Operated Boyfriend (BOB).
BOB, BOB, you’re not a man,
You won’t get me pregnant like a real penis can.
You give off great vibes and you don’t want to cuddle,
I use you when I want to; no need to be subtle.
I think we have a winner for the best birth control!
I’ll enjoy a healthy relationship with BOB while you go fuck yourself!
Lots of love!