You see, sometimes I write things and then I go back and think; ‘I’m not sure that isn’t actually breathtakingly offensive’. This usually happens when I write about women, or what are traditionally seen as women’s issues, like when I wrote about pregnancy the other day, or piston rings before that.
What I wanted to say about pregnancy was that some people enjoy scaring the shit out of pregnant women, especially regarding birth and the following 18-20 years, whereas in fact, for almost all women in Australia, it’s a nigh on certainty that their newborn skills will range between ‘perfectly adequate’ to ‘far better than the 1970s when 70-85 percent of newborns were sponsored by Rothmans’ Every parent that know personally has fallen into the category of ‘bloody excellent’.
Even I’ve managed to keep my child from getting the mange, which, as I mentioned previously, is something of a miracle given my mother’s previous statement that ‘it doesn’t take a genius to lie still’. Incidentally, this was her way roundabout way of making me feel more comfortable about impending parenthood, one that probably just seems offensive, on reflection. For some reason being reminded that I was dumber than a box of hair did actually make me feel less freaked out about having a kid. What’s wrong with that picture?
I’ve digressed. What I’m wondering, and why I’m sitting here on the computer well past my bedtime, is why do I start of writing one thing, and then end up writing something else? I know this question isn’t new. It’s something people have wondered ever since Tolstoy sat down with an envelope to jot down Aunty Svet’s onion soup recipe. But I still wonder….
I used to write a different blog, for years. It ended up being rather popular, and I was even feted by some well-known media thingo as being “a guy who wrote about the most incredible range of things”. Apparently, after 7 years of blogging almost every day about everything from cultural politics to vaccine refrigeration it wasn’t apparent to readers that I was a woman.
So I thought on this blog I’d write about more kind of ‘exclusive woman stuff’. But I don’t think I’m going to cut it. I just can’t help being breathtakingly offensive, it’s my special gift. I’m rather good with sharks though.
So from here on in it’s ‘inclusive women stuff’, like engineering, surf reports and fruit trees.