THE biological clock

I started reading CLEO, Women's Weekly, Her World, ELLE like when I was in secondary school. Though most of the time the articles are abit too off for me. I quite like them. It occupied alot of my time, and since we actually do get them free sometimes (my neighbour in Potong Pasir use to give us free mags) so what else better than to read trash mags?

I think the part I like to read the most, is the Q&A pages, or you could say the "aunt agony" page. Readers will send you their questions and these mags will arrange for professionals to answer them. I liked it because sometimes readers have the most ridiculous problems, especially those that relate to life,relationship and/or men. And I use to really wonder, do they like write in and wait for a month for those mags to select their problems, get professional advice and print them? And in the meantime, they just let those problems... stay the way it is, till they receive the replies? And what if, those mags decide that your problem ain't "entertaining" enough, or they are too small a problem and decide not to print it? Or worse, professionals refuse to comment, thus relegating your problem to the waste paper bin? What then do they do about their problem? Because if I have not assumed wrongly, you must be real desperate to send in your problem and wait for the mag to get you help (which would perhaps take say a month?)

I have digressed from my original topic (read title: Biological clock).
So let me get back.

Those mags that I read when I was younger were mostly targeted at the female adults (read: folks our age now). I vaguely remember a few articles, or at least some mention of the "biological clock ticking" phenomenon. I know this, because I remember thinking this situation is totally ludricous. The writers of those female mags will go on telling us how, when we hit a certain age (like say mid 20s to early 30s), our "biological clock" will start ticking, and we will be increasingly desperate anxious to find the Mr Right, settle down and have procreate. Furthermore, our "motherly" instincts will also start to develop and we will yearn to go through that crazy labour and produce offsprings that will really drive you crazy.

At that young age, I seriously balked at that idea and the whole phenomenon.

I just couldn't understand how a normal female (regardless of age) would want to put herself through the nightmare of having a baby coming out from you. Needless to say, enduring that tremendous amount of pain, just to bring life to this Earth, only to have to suffer the remaining of your life devoted to making them comfortable and happy.

In short, I was dead sure no clock was going to start ticking inside.
Yeah. I thought of marriage because of that lovely gown, dream-come-true wedding dinner/reception, gorgeous husband in white tailored suit, a mega kick-ass tiffany diamond ring that would blind the world, champagne roses in a simple bouquet, obscenely huge bungalow to settle down in etc..
But never did children come anywhere near the picture.
In fact.
I never even considered them part of my life.

I was not going to let screaming kids drive me crazy and ruin my picture-perfect hair (and life). Nor will I break a perfectly manicured nail for that insane rascal.

WHAT biological clock?
WHAT motherly instincts?
I was sure I'd drop infants and break their arms because they are just too fragile and small for me. I could not bear to have kids screaming about some toy in my ear. It will just drive me crazy enough to throw them into the river and check myself into the asylum.

But..

Ladies and Gentlemen.








The infamous "biological clock" did not tick/tock tick/tock with me now.
It just exploded in me.





Bah.






Coming from me.
This should be surprising.

Now,
I love sweet little girls.
I adore the innocent wide toothless grin that babies tend to have.
I cannot wait to cuddle and hug them every minute of the day, especially so when they are an exact replica of ME.
Yes, I want to love my baby girl (I am still a tad bit allergic to boys) - YA, only one.

Every single time I see a mother with their child. I yearn for a little girl of my own. I can almost picture her little hand in mind, so trusting and warm.
I've developed MOTHERLY INSTINCTS now.

What the..

This is how I know, I am no longer 21 y.o

Sian.