I've had to catch up for two days I missed during my initial induction at my new job. This means that I got plonked smack-bang in the middle of a bunch of people who'd already been training together for two weeks. That in itself was a complete struggle because I'm socially inept and having to break the ice with a bunch of people who've been bonding for fourteen days straight is quite a challenge on its own.
Within the first five minutes of being there, I witnessed some women scolding a young-looking girl, who we will call SDBBWSBS (I'll elaborate later), for smoking a lot. I thought, in my unbridled patriotism that leaks from my every pore: "Hey man, this is Australia, and if you wanna smoke you can bloody well smoke, mate!"
I let them know so, but in a decidedly less stereotypical tone. They all looked at me a little funny, and I looked at SDBBWSBS to confirm she had my support on her freedom. She smiled, giggled a little and said; "Don't mind them, they're just all worried because I smoke six or so cigarettes a day and I'm about 6-months pregnant."
And then I did this:
Not really.
Stupid Dumb Bogan Bitch Who Should Be Sterilised was deadly serious. My face dropped, and she suddenly got this "Oh no, not you too" look on her face. 1000 thoughts rushed through my mind. "Is she serious? Does she have some kind of severe autism? Am I dreaming this Darwin Award contender?"
Some of you may know that I used to be a Nurse. While my primary experience was in mental health and pallative care, I also spent a large chunk of my career working in a neo-natal unit at a large hospital. For those of you who are dictionary-less, that is to say that I worked with babies. And very often, these were very sick babies.
Want to know the main reason most of them were ill? Prematurely born.
What was the cause of most of these premature births? Smoking.
A lot of people tend to say you should respect people's personal choices because it isn't your life. In fact, that is what this 'woman' said to me shortly after I questioned her. To those people, and to her, I say this. Look at that baby up there. Look at it for a good five minutes and tell me you think it is okay to be the cause of this in a child.
And so, I asked her.
"What are you going to do if your baby is born prematurely?" I asked, trying to make sure she understood I was asking out of concern, and not because I currently felt like ending her with a shovel. Her face filled up with the fury of a thousand suns.
"Don't fucking judge me," she snapped "You don't know me or my life, so don't fucking judge!"
I looked around at everybody else in the room. They didn't seem the least bit concerned she was about to rip out my throat. I stammered a little before I regained my composure.
"I'm not judging you."
"Yes, you are. You're judging me and you don't even know me."
I had to admit at this point that I was. However, since her entire rebuttal was based on this I decided it was best I did not continue from that angle. I placated her;
"It's your life, you're free to do what you want. As long as you are aware of the consequences."
It was then that she looked at me slightly puzzled. It dawned on me that she'd been told this was going to be bad for her baby but that she wasn't exactly aware of how. She then asked me what being born premature actually meant, and so I explained the health implications. Thinking I'd finally gotten to her, she shrugged.
"I smoked with my last kid," said a girl who I would like to now tell you was only 20 years old "And she turned out fine."
"This one may not," I insisted "And he or she could very well die. The underweight factor alone could contribute to multiple-"
And that is where she cut me off. Her-royal-redneckness from South West Sydney (Hickville) obviously knew plenty about human biology and science since birthing her first youngling in the trailer park out-house.
"I have gestational diabetes," she said matter-of-factly "So that usually means the baby comes out fat, right?"
"Sometimes, but-" I responded.
"Well then it will balance out. The baby will come out normal because it's supposed to be fat but I'll make it skinny by smoking."
That is pretty much where my interaction with this woman ended. Save for a few bitchy moments during our training, she and I never actually spoke ever again. I didn't even bother giving her filthy looks every time she stepped outside to poison her unborn child with tar and cancer and the self-assuredness that comes with having only two brain-cells given to her when she was conceived via incest.
There are many reasons why this bothers me. The most obvious is that I am incredibly protective of all children, be they redheaded or inbred-born. Anybody who knows me can vouch for the fact that I erupt into a fit of joyous squeals when someone hands me a baby and my one and only true desire in life is to have children of my own (And to bang George Clooney. If you're reading this George, please respond to my fan letters!).
But, the main one is that this woman has everything that I can not. Sans a womb, I can't get pregnant and have the child I so desire. This twat, however, can voluntarily throw her cat at whatever man she so wishes and have babies. That is her biological and God-given right.
I can accept the fact that my Mum failed me in life and made me a man. That, I can deal with. What I can't deal with is the fact that even according to the law of this country she has more right to have a child than me. If her ovaries did not function, which the unfortunately do, she could adopt a baby or have one via artificial insemination and the government would hand her a god-damn baby in a little basket and pat her on the head. "Good girl," they'd say "We don't know jack about you as a person but you're hetero so you are automatically an acceptable parent!"
Now, I don't believe this girl is less a human being than myself. She does not actually deserve to be beaten or involuntarily aborted. However, this world does truly need to wake up to itself and realise that a traditional family unit does not automatically mean the two parents within it are best for a child just by virtue of being male and female. There needs to be a realisation that people like myself have just as much right to a child as anybody else, especially just as much right as a girl who thinks smoking will help balance out the effects of gestational diabetes on her unborn child.
In closing, I present to my readers this totally fair and totally not biased pictoral representation of my point.
Who do you trust to raise a child?
I'm just sayin'.
Stupid Dumb Bogan Bitch Who Should Be Sterilised was deadly serious. My face dropped, and she suddenly got this "Oh no, not you too" look on her face. 1000 thoughts rushed through my mind. "Is she serious? Does she have some kind of severe autism? Am I dreaming this Darwin Award contender?"
Some of you may know that I used to be a Nurse. While my primary experience was in mental health and pallative care, I also spent a large chunk of my career working in a neo-natal unit at a large hospital. For those of you who are dictionary-less, that is to say that I worked with babies. And very often, these were very sick babies.
Want to know the main reason most of them were ill? Prematurely born.
What was the cause of most of these premature births? Smoking.
Each year in NSW, about 1000 babies are born more than eight weeks early (before 32 weeks of pregnancy). Almost all of these babies need highly specialised care in a Neonatal (Newborn) Intensive Care Unit until they have developed enough to breathe and feed without clinical help.
A lot of people tend to say you should respect people's personal choices because it isn't your life. In fact, that is what this 'woman' said to me shortly after I questioned her. To those people, and to her, I say this. Look at that baby up there. Look at it for a good five minutes and tell me you think it is okay to be the cause of this in a child.
And so, I asked her.
"What are you going to do if your baby is born prematurely?" I asked, trying to make sure she understood I was asking out of concern, and not because I currently felt like ending her with a shovel. Her face filled up with the fury of a thousand suns.
"Don't fucking judge me," she snapped "You don't know me or my life, so don't fucking judge!"
I looked around at everybody else in the room. They didn't seem the least bit concerned she was about to rip out my throat. I stammered a little before I regained my composure.
"I'm not judging you."
"Yes, you are. You're judging me and you don't even know me."
I had to admit at this point that I was. However, since her entire rebuttal was based on this I decided it was best I did not continue from that angle. I placated her;
"It's your life, you're free to do what you want. As long as you are aware of the consequences."
It was then that she looked at me slightly puzzled. It dawned on me that she'd been told this was going to be bad for her baby but that she wasn't exactly aware of how. She then asked me what being born premature actually meant, and so I explained the health implications. Thinking I'd finally gotten to her, she shrugged.
"I smoked with my last kid," said a girl who I would like to now tell you was only 20 years old "And she turned out fine."
"This one may not," I insisted "And he or she could very well die. The underweight factor alone could contribute to multiple-"
And that is where she cut me off. Her-royal-redneckness from South West Sydney (Hickville) obviously knew plenty about human biology and science since birthing her first youngling in the trailer park out-house.
"I have gestational diabetes," she said matter-of-factly "So that usually means the baby comes out fat, right?"
"Sometimes, but-" I responded.
"Well then it will balance out. The baby will come out normal because it's supposed to be fat but I'll make it skinny by smoking."
That is pretty much where my interaction with this woman ended. Save for a few bitchy moments during our training, she and I never actually spoke ever again. I didn't even bother giving her filthy looks every time she stepped outside to poison her unborn child with tar and cancer and the self-assuredness that comes with having only two brain-cells given to her when she was conceived via incest.
There are many reasons why this bothers me. The most obvious is that I am incredibly protective of all children, be they redheaded or inbred-born. Anybody who knows me can vouch for the fact that I erupt into a fit of joyous squeals when someone hands me a baby and my one and only true desire in life is to have children of my own (And to bang George Clooney. If you're reading this George, please respond to my fan letters!).
But, the main one is that this woman has everything that I can not. Sans a womb, I can't get pregnant and have the child I so desire. This twat, however, can voluntarily throw her cat at whatever man she so wishes and have babies. That is her biological and God-given right.
I can accept the fact that my Mum failed me in life and made me a man. That, I can deal with. What I can't deal with is the fact that even according to the law of this country she has more right to have a child than me. If her ovaries did not function, which the unfortunately do, she could adopt a baby or have one via artificial insemination and the government would hand her a god-damn baby in a little basket and pat her on the head. "Good girl," they'd say "We don't know jack about you as a person but you're hetero so you are automatically an acceptable parent!"
Now, I don't believe this girl is less a human being than myself. She does not actually deserve to be beaten or involuntarily aborted. However, this world does truly need to wake up to itself and realise that a traditional family unit does not automatically mean the two parents within it are best for a child just by virtue of being male and female. There needs to be a realisation that people like myself have just as much right to a child as anybody else, especially just as much right as a girl who thinks smoking will help balance out the effects of gestational diabetes on her unborn child.
In closing, I present to my readers this totally fair and totally not biased pictoral representation of my point.
Who do you trust to raise a child?
Or....
I'm just sayin'.
