My Birkenstock loving co-worker keeps nagging me to watch her childbirth DVD. She says giving birth is the most beautiful thing in the world. I assured her it wasn’t beautiful, not even if she had professional hair and make up, down there. At her second baby shower all she talked about was the miracle of natural childbirth. Personally, I think pain is for fools, if I was having a baby I’d tell them to knock me out and wake me up when the hairdresser arrives.

 After the sixth office baby shower in a month, I think I have Stockholm Syndrome, because I’m starting to identify with my captors. The whole baby thing is beginning to sound interesting. I’ve decided to fake a pregnancy so I can get six weeks paid vacation. I’ll put a photo of some kid on my desk and when I’m super hung over, I’ll call work and say I can’t come in because my baby’s sick. I’m also warming up to the idea of having a baby shower for my fake baby. I’d get back all the money I’ve spent over the years on baby gifts by registering at Manolo Blahninik, La Perla and Liquor Barn.

Frankly, childbirth scares the crap out of me because after you have a baby, your vagina looks like a catchers mitt. And more important, after you have a baby, you have a baby. I’m not saying I hate kids but I think the witch in Hansel and Gretel was a victim of slander, young children are probably pretty tasty.

 Baby showers give women a chance to share what it’s like to go from being a girl, to being a woman, from being a daughter to being a mother. I’m grateful for baby showers because each and every one of them revolves around the most beautiful thing in the world, cake.

 That’s why I’m grateful for baby showers.