Victim, Perpetrator, Negotiator

I stood across the street from a Texas drug store, staring lazily at the glass doors that would lead me to fluorescent aisles.  I was a few blocks from where my brother’s fiancé and the ladies attending her bachelorette party were thumbing through lingerie and hot pink sex toys.  I sighed, hot and needing to pee.  “Maybe I should just take a test so that I can enjoy drinking tonight,” I mused to my sister.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

Pregnancy test boasting 99.9% accuracy in my overstuffed purse, I rushed up the steps of the house we had rented for our weekend of fun.  I pulled down my pants with fervor and ripped open the packaging of the $14 test.  “Fourteen dollars,” I had moaned when I saw the price tag, reminding myself that I was clearly in no position to have a baby if I could barely stomach the idea of losing an extra fifteen bucks.  My bright red toes pressed down onto the cold, clean tiles, and I placed the stick under my urine stream.  Sweet relief.  I glanced down, waiting to be relieved of my concern.  A tiny, red, and maddeningly indifferent plus sign appeared almost immediately.  I stared, my hands beginning to tremble.  “Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygod,” I repeated out loud.  Sharp, rapid sobs rose from deep within my gut, forced out along with streams of snot and mascara.  I could not believe it, and yet, I knew it was true.  Everything suddenly made sense.  The exhaustion.  Sore breasts.  Dreams of babies and incarcerated parents.

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the stories we share

Yesterday, January 22nd, marked the 41st Anniversary of the Roe vs. Wade Supreme Court decision.  This historic Supreme Court ruling guarantees the right to safe and legal abortions in the United States. This week’s diary […]

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my first encounter

Sex education in my high school consisted of a simulated baby and scary pictures of sexually transmitted diseases;  both negative consequences of having sex. The simulated baby would cry, require feeding and diaper changes.  At the […]

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