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Apparently if Nibbles puts his running shoes on now, he’ll need to get into a good daycare so that he can get into a good montessori when he’s 2 so that he can get into a good school when he’s 5 so that he can jump across the hurdles – primary, middle, hiiiigh school- off to a good university so that he can land a good job. And then the good wife will follow suite, naturally. And of course, there’s nothing subjective about what’s deemed good.

I had it all, did it all – after all, I was a rather good girl. Fat lot of good that did me. I keep thinking that what I want most for Nibbles is for him to be able to pursue his dreams. That would be a whole load of phony baloney, considering I never had the balls to do so. And nothing accelerates a parent’s fall from the pedestal faster than hypocrisy.

But what does a good girl do when she forgets how to dream? Perhaps learn to forget her identity has a human, and come to terms with what she really is – code monkey, work horse, fat pig, stupid cow, corporate rat. If I must choose, I think I’d want to be a cockroach. Enviable resiliance + free lodging/boarding. Or perhaps I’ll stick to pig – playing in the mud + 30 minute orgasms.

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