I don’t know about you…
but me, when I got pregnant,
I was sick as hell.
And it wasn’t just because I was smoking
and drinking the whole time.
Don’t worry — that baby…
I had it aborted.
Basically, I went to pharmacy to get the cheapest test.
Clocked in at work.
Went straight to the bathroom.
Took the test.
Positive.
Well… let’s stay positive.
At the end of my shift I ordered a beer,
stepped outside for a cigarette.
At least that way my alibi held.
People wouldn’t notice.
Secret, secret… I got a secret.
So I Googled abortion clinics.
The Google Reviews were full of five stars:
“Great service, I’d get aborted here again!”
Anyway, the day comes.
I took the morning off.
I mean — it’s not like I was going in for my wisdom teeth…
I’d already postponed those long enough.
Right away, when you get there,
they make you wait three hours.
A waiting room that makes you feel
like you just broke a deal with the devil.
The two nurses and the doctor
who took care of me
all asked if I wanted a free IUD.
Today only.
Offered to the aborted.
The third time, I said yes.
Lucky me.
I got a free IUD,
and a free scraping. Wild.
I should’ve taken the whole day, guys…
My legs were jelly when I walked out.
I went home.
At the time I was working from home.
And then I got a bouquet of flowers.
With a card.
From my friend Judd,
who I’d confided in.
He sent them from Alberta.
A friend came to visit.
She asked if it was my birthday.
I said:
“No… it’s for my abortion.”
I could see she didn’t know what to say.
And me — I don’t know how to lie to my people.
She ended up saying:
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
Not that she was minimizing…
But if we could at least laugh about it,
that would already be…
less minimizing.