The Worst Metaphor Ever

I got to the fair. The ride was so sparkly, playing an enticing tinkly song. I convinced my honey to go. She went. She looked dizzy. She went around a few times. It looked hard and I felt bad for convincing her to try it. She got the gold ring! I was so happy for her I couldn’t stand it.

I wanted to try. The line was long and I had to change diapers and get spit up on as I waited. I couldn’t sleep much. I waited for months. Finally, I got to the front. They raised the cost of getting on, but I paid it. I chose the most beautiful horse, with startlingly high stirrups. The music (insert awful new-age hold music from California Cryobank here) started and did not change. Now I’m going around and around. The new-age music never really reaches a climax. It is supposed to make me relax. It is making me angry. Doo doo doo dee! Dee dee dee doo! ch ch ch ch…

My honey is on the side. She keeps saying words of encouragement and blowing kisses. Get this: I have to pay every time I go around.

Right after my honey comes Dr. Mug. He makes a joke, asks me to repeat a number, sticks some goop in me.

Then comes the gold ring. I can see it. I can feel it in my hands, so soft and dimpled. Then I hear this, “Have a happy period! He hee hee heee.” A woman who looks and sounds like the Wicked Witch of the West wearing a tee shirt that reads Flo pulls the rings just a centimeter out of my reach, hands me a tampon, and says, “Sorry, you are not a winner. Please try again.”

I could get off if I want to. The ride sucks. It is completely not the romantic spin I was hoping for. I’m not the only one on it, though. I keep seeing other women (some of them way more motion sick than myself) grabbing that ring. Sure, they vomit a bit when they get off, but they look so happy. They have something I’ve wanted for at least 20 years. Even though it causes me to write awful metaphors, I’m staying on this horse for now. Look! I see Dr. Mug up ahead. I have a good feeling this time. I swear.

[This post is one of the reasons I keep this blog anonymous. There’s no way I could show my face after writing it.]



Filed under sperm shopping, TTC

4 responses to “The Worst Metaphor Ever

  1. nycphoenix

    There are worse metaphors trust me. They’re all over my blog!

  2. S.

    I use the merry-go-round metaphor for TTC, too (though not so razzle-dazzled up!)

  3. It’s not a bad metaphor. It is a merry-go-round and I would like to get off myself. But it’s good that you have some clarity about the fact that you are not ready to get stop the ride.

    Even though it is expensive as well as emotionally and physically draining, you are working towards something you have been wanting for 20 years. You can’t give up now.

  4. Co

    Yours is a good metaphor. I like the hamster wheel metaphor I read on someone else’s blog too. TTC felt like a hamster wheel to me a lot of the time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s