Let me celebrate my loss

You know, even though I am a strong Christian woman, I am also quite appreciative of the various advances that feminism has made for women like me. I enjoy voting, love a little promiscuous sex when it comes my way, and I literally could not exist without being able to be a separate financial entity apart from my husband- after all, if he knew how much I blew each month on QVC jewelry, skin mags, and blow, he would have a coronary! And can I just tell you, unlike a certain French Canadian whore who still owes me Girl Scout cookie money (I'm not one to name names, but Celine Dion), I don't know if his heart would go on after his fifth heart attack! But, I digress.

Yes, I enjoy that women everywhere can be liberated and free to behave as they see fit, without the strappings of traditional gender roles. Now, don't take that to mean that I approve of hairy legs and not wearing makeup! After all, you may not have to follow gender roles, but that doesn't mean you have to become a man, after all! However, I do think, for the most part, it is a good thing. It's also nice to see strong, liberated women in the media.

That said, there are still some issues, and one in particular leaves me feeling quite agitated, I don't mind telling you. Why is it that if a woman should become pregnant unexpectedly, and then lose the baby, she is still expected to get depressed? I just dodged a damn bullet, I'm not about to start crying and whining- I'm happy, goddamn it! I mean, is it too much trouble to let me have that moment of joy and relief?

I know some of you out there must be reading this and reeling in shock. But come now, let's be honest. You didn't really want it, did you? I've been in your shoes many, many times, so let's not lie to each other. You know that you were hoping this would happen. I mean, even if you aren't a woman of faith, you knew that getting the big A would mean all sorts of complicated explanations and justifications, and who has time for that, honestly? I mean, you could always come up with a good reason, but no reason is good enough for some of them, so who wants to have to bear that discomfort at every garden party and social?

And don't tell me you didn't think about drinking a bit more and pretending you didn't know. God knows that's my first response. But even as great of a solution as that is, it still bears that awkward sting of responsibility, and frankly, if we're not up the task of slapping on a lady rubber and popping our little tic-tac each morning, then where do we get off thinking we can keep our dirty little secret under wraps for the next fifty years or so?

That's why I say we need a change. We need to let women be honest about who they are. Let me celebrate my miscarriage, America! If we can put a black man in the Oval Office, then why can't I have a fucking party? I promise it would be completely tasteful. Also, when you think about it, it would sort of be like a baby shower... and who doesn't love a baby shower?

I hope I've given you something to ponder as you download your internet porn and daily Bible verses. As for me, I have to drive down to the plaza and pick up a new Swarovski crystal punch bowl and a big bag of Corn Nuts before my guests arrive. Mmm yes... nuts.