A (Biological) Clockwork Orange

During my post-finals "I refuse to leave my bed/couch" stage(a beautiful, beautiful thing), I rewatched "Someone like You," starring Ashley Judd and that hot guy whose name I can't think of right now. There was one scene in particular that resonated with me for reasons to which most people my age won't be able to relate (fortunate for them). The sister and her husband are at a dining room table. The husband futilely attempts to jab an orange with a syringe - after the wife exasperatedly grabs the objects from him and completes the task, we learn she is taking fertility drugs which require jabbing a syringe into her ass. 

Now pause. What is the connection? Animosity towards citrus fruit? Needles in my ass? (No to the first and a "I hope not" to the second. "Yes" to the Can-this-post get any-more awkward?)

You see, cancer and its partners-in-crime chemo and radiation do a funny thing to fertility. Apparently, this is supposed to worry me. And make me want to either take some period-suppression pill or rip out some ovaries and freeze 'em for Sunday dinner (no, not actually, ya weirdo). As a 20-year-old girl just trying to graduate and uh, stay alive, I am less than concerned with procreating. Actually, (most)(sane) people (not on MTV) are trying to avoid that uh, miracle of life bit as much as humanly possible. 

So, what to do about babies? To this dismay of all desperately awaiting (grand)parenthood(ie my mother), egg harvesting (stowing away eggs for a rainy day) clinics haven't exactly figured out how to uh, jam 'em back in after the fact. Still waiting for that one. So, I was given an option with an actual success: in vitro fertilization!!! (get the egg fertilized first, and then freeze it.)

Oh great!

But wait. One problem: who is fertilizing this egg? I'm not exactly set on bearing anyone's children at this current point in time. And I doubt my boyfriend would be at-all surprised by that revelation.

Which brings me to my next point: Can we just dwell on how not-age-appropriate this topic is? Ok, so with the awareness of "Sixteen and Pregnant"/"Teen Mom"/girls who got knocked up at my high school,  the I'm-too-young argument doesn't really fly. But what else do I have? This is inappropriate for my current stage in life? I already have finals and you want me to worry about SPAWNING ANOTHER HUMAN BEING? (About that...) Maybe I'm just refusing to be an adult. Be mature. Truly consider my future. To which I say: Fuck it. I'm a college student.

Now back to the syringe-in-ass. Due to the doses of fun I've received over the past semester/are going to receive over the next (because it didn't really work the first time around - just found out ya'll!!), I'm on track for the Charlotte York storyline instead of the Miranda (for those unaware of the reference, one is a woman desperate for housewife of the month/small versions of herself and the other is a workaholic who gets knocked up by accident), which perturbs me. 

Priorities can change over the course of life. We may find ourselves seeking top preschools as avidly as we once sought  top summer internships. (gasp!) And as much as I may dismiss it now, I may find myself struggling with infertility. Despite this plausibility, I can't help but think I'll be okay. As long as I have my person by my side, willing to jab a syringe in my ass. 

So there you have it folks. Love is finding someone willing to jab a syringe in your ass. Eloquence.