Motherhood Anxiety: Part 3 – The Inheritance

Let’s go the lighter route on this motherhood anxiety topic, shall we? Please proceed with all the sarcastic tonality you know I possess.

I know I can’t be the only one who has a long list of insecurities and horrible traits they’ve inherited from previous generations—ones that just shouldn’t be passed on.

This is serious, folks. I mean, I have qualities and genetic traits that nobody should have to endure. For the love, I don’t want to give these things to another human being and watch them suffer through what I have suffered.

For one thing, I’m a hairy beast. If you look at my brothers, they’re hairless everywhere but their legs. But me? I have tried every hair removal cream on the market. I’ve tried bleaching. I’ve waxed. I’ve shaved. And I even have hair left after six treatments of laser hair removal! I’ve been self-conscious about this my entire life. Why would I want to subject another little girl to this?

Also, I have B.O. and a serious sweating problem. I’m not talking about like just casual “oh I exercised so now I stink” B.O. and sweat. I mean I have legitimate, nasally offensive B.O., amplified by the absurd amount of sweat I produce. It was so bad that my mother even told me I stank, and I started wearing deodorant in third grade. Standard antiperspirant hasn’t been enough to block the sweat, or the smell if it’s been long enough. I’ve tried five, count them, FIVE different natural deodorants because antiperspirants are connected to cancer (thanks, Brittany). These five deodorants work for like three hours on my unrelenting glands. I’m currently trying to make the life-altering decision between cancer and major stinkage.

I’m short as all get-out. Granted, I may have been taller if we had caught my thyroid problem a little earlier, because nobody in my family is as short as I am. But really, who wants to be five feet tall? And who wants a thyroid problem? I don’t see anybody raising their hand. Maybe that’s because both of these SUCK.

This is all to avoid the weightier, life-altering personality traits that can be quite challenging. I was a highly sensitive, emotional child. It’s taken me a while to get those things under control. I talk too much. I’m a perfectionist—again, have that under control after almost three decades. I feel guilty very easily. I have had high expectations of people and can be unforgiving. I am highly controlling and impatient behind the wheel. I’m a workaholic. These things lead to chronically high stress levels. I say again, why would I want to give birth to someone who has a good chance of inheriting these things?

I could go on and on. I had an overbite and had braces for two years. I even wore headgear at night, people. Headgear. I had surgery on my left eyelid because it was lazy-ish. My vision is bad. My legs are huge, whether I exercise or not (probably bigger because I exercise). I have sideburns. I have a cowlick. I scar easily. My hands are tiny. It’s hard to find cute shoes small enough for my feet.

Obviously some of these grievances are pretty inconsequential, but they add up. If at some point I need 25 reasons not to procreate, I need only reread this post. So, future babies, if I ever get brave and give birth to you, I apologize in advance for the ugly, sad, embarrassing, and otherwise unpleasant things which you’ll inherit from me. At least you have someone who empathizes.