On Wednesday, I bought the magazine which is pictured to the left of this text. You may ask why. You may think that it was because I really like brunch. You may be incorrect.
You are! Brunch is hideous. These are some of the things that I think of when I think of brunch: What do you mean you're going to make me wait to eat? What do you mean you're only going to feed me twice today? What do you mean this is supposed to be special? I hate brunch almost as much as I love diners. I was born in New Jersey so that is a lot.
No. I bought it because there is a little girl with a pink bow and big blue eyes sitting behind a stack of pancakes - and she is so excited about them. I bought it because the parts of me which are designed for mother-purposes have not yet shrivelled up from lack of use. Because until they do, something deep down in my ovulary area will respond to children and pancakes. (As long as it's at a reasonably early hour in the morning and leaves an acceptable amount of time to digest before a second meal.)
Love of food - check
Desperate need for a child - check
Creepy factor - check
This is my most revealing blog entry so far. I feel like you (oh elusive, made-up, not really there you) really know me now.
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