The big-boned wannabe Easter Bunny.

I follow 2 blogs – and one of them – reluctantmom – posted about The Sunshine Agency

(You may want to check it out – so that the comments below make a little more sense..)

This organization assists couples with fertility problems, mainly through recruiting egg donors. A pretty worthy attempt at bringing joy to people’s lives, I’d say. And I have had a bit of exposure to the pain and frustration that can be caused when it is not so easy to say, ‘We’re having a baby!’ My sissy and her hubby, battled with the textbook method of falling preggers – although their issues were not necessarily due to a lack of eggs. But when the no news became good news and the twins were born, our entire family celebrated their joy. The twins are not identical, and it is like having a piece of chalk and a piece of cheese in the family – but they have their mommy and daddy sooo wrapped around their snotty, greasy, flingy fingers.

Now, as far as donating a few eggs – this is something I would love to do! I am not impartial to a mandatory lay-down, in a quiet room, with a cuppa hospital tea and 2 individually-wrapped biccies, while the pro’s do so exploratory drilling, excavating and acquisitions. I have no skaamte – especially after having 2 kids. At the first birth, I counted 13 staff (I am assuming all medically qualified … or maybe there was a cleaner in there, as well?) in the operating theatre. Two were discussing the up and coming golf game; the nurses were arguing about the latest lover’s tiff in Egoli (yes, it was really that long ago), some poor soul was painting my entire lower extremities in mustard yellow; and the cherry on top was my anaesthetist, who was sitting off the main operating area, dipping Ouma rusks in his tea. This last bit – and the epidural – made me so want to heave over my now white husband who was trying to catch all the action without passing out.

But, according to the rules, I cannot play Easter Bunny and hand out eggs all willy-nilly, because I am too OOLLDDD – at 39? What is the reason for the age cut-off? I always thought that, as a female, you were born with a finite amount of eggies, which you casually sent down the tubes every month? So if I still have a good few, what makes them worse than a sexy 20 year-old’s? Just wondering? And the reason that I am wondering, is because of the many old folk that have babies round the 40 mark these days…

Would like to add that I come from extremely good breeding stock – 1 of 4; with 9 uncles and aunts; extremely buoyant – you should see my mom catch a swell out in the ocean, man! Solid bone structures (maybe a bit too solid?). Which brings me to another question: my siblings and I, as well as my kids, weigh a good 10kg’s more than other people who look the same size as us? No, really. (I am not using this as an excuse for the extra 20 kg’s that I carry round with me, always). My 13 year old son weighs 79kg – and he is taller than me, his legs and arms are all scrawny, but I must admit, he has a ribcage the size of a parrot’s abode. And there is no more puppy fat there – boarding school took care of that.

So I will leave you with the following thought: Could there really be a condition where one suffers from being ‘big-boned?’


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