I was working at the bar (I used to be a bartender at a
crappy night club on trendy Long Street) and there was this weird smell that
lingered. It was a mixture of lavender and old socks.
The stench belonged to one of the guys I was serving, I’m
guessing it was a cologne that he purchased after reading a GQ. I called one of
the girls to see if the odor was just as overwhelming to her – it wasn’t.
One of the signs of pregnancy is supernatural nostril power.
Another tell-tale sign is perky breasts. I thought maybe the gypsies had
finally answered my twenty-something-year-old prayers for bigger boobs, but of
course they didn’t.
I got home after my shift and immediately sent a text to a
She said she would pop into Clicks and get a pregnancy test
and at lunchtime, we would meet at my apartment and I would pee on a stick and
take it from there.
I peed and the test confirmed what I already knew – I was
preggo. My body was preparing itself to housing something that was created
three to seven weeks ago and I knew what I had to do.
I had to get rid of it.
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I didn’t take the time to think about it. I didn’t need
time. I got on the phone and one of the Marie Stopes call center operators was
taking down my details. I knew I didn’t want to house anything in my body that
wasn’t food or gin.
She gave me instructions to pay a R500 deposit, pretty easy
Then she told me I would have to pay an additional R2000
when I got to the clinic. Two-freaking-grand! Are you kidding me! That’s a lot
of money for someone that’s a junior at a small ad agency.
But then I thought of how mad I had been when I was out
shopping for a colleague's baby shower.
Babies are crazy expensive! And they grow out of everything
so quickly, you’d swear they were budding fashion bloggers searching for the
latest trends. Suddenly two thousand didn’t seem so bad after that flashback.
I agreed and repeated my reference number to my friend who
was still there waiting by my side.
I know of women that have gotten abortions. I know of women
who have decided to keep their bundles of joy and parade them on my Facebook
I also know of one woman who didn’t have the option to abort
and had the baby while studying, and how hard that was for her.
I call that woman “Mom”. Yes, she was able to raise me and
all that sweet Mother’s Day card stuff, but sometimes I can feel the “what if”
lingering at random moments.
The day of the appointment was like any other. I didn’t want
to make it feel like a thing because it wasn’t a thing. I do however remember
feeling like a plus-one to my own appointment.
It was as if present me was accompanying future me.
I felt like I had stepped outside of myself and was watching
as the events of that day took place. It didn’t feel like me. It wasn’t me.
This wasn’t a dentist appointment or ‘flu shot.
This was an appointment I didn’t think I would ever have to
I mean I used protection and took the necessary precautions
any hypersexually active human would. But here I was sitting in the waiting
room with couples, mothers and daughters and one woman who decided to face it
It’s been months since that nurse gave me the pill.
I’ve had 3 periods since then. I’ve been extra careful ever
since I was told not to have sex for two weeks once I’ve taken the pill and a
crap load of painkillers. I’ve had extra room for food and gin. And lastly I’ve
had no regrets.
But I must admit I will miss the boobs.For
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