Egg-stravaganza

It must have all started when Dorothy Provine, star of the 1960s television series, The Roaring Twenties, began doing commercials for something called Feminine Deodorant Spray (FDS, as it was named). I was around 13 when the show went off the air and could not figure out why women would need a special deodorant, but later caught on when Esquire Magazine, in its Dubious Achievement Awards, gave her the title of “Sweet Peas of the Year.” Provine’s groundbreaking work broke ground for all manner of commercials dealing with all manner of issues, the personal nature of which one would have assumed rendered them taboo. To cite H.L. Mencken, “Nobody ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American people.” Today proved it.

Driving down Main Street in Bridgeport, Connecticut, I saw the sign of the future; somebody’s future, anyway. There, amid convenience stores, travel agents, insurance agents, cell phone dealers and various types of restaurants stood the building which, according to the sign, houses the Center for Gestational Surrogacy. The CGS has no website that I was able to find but there are several others listed on the Web and the first one I went to states that in order to be a surrogate, the first requirement is that you be female. Glad they cleared that one up. But what about the prospective parents?

DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO CHILDREN LOF MY OWN AND HAVE NEVER HAD A HAND IN THE RAISING OF CHILDREN EXCEPT FOR BABYSITTING MY SIBLINGS. Yeah, that includes diaper changes.

The whole issue bothers me, though, and I suppose there is no reason in the world that it should. However, when looked at through a certain lens, it becomes apparent to me that people believe they have a right to have children no matter what. Having observed various parenting behaviors in public throughout my life, it is my belief that there should be some sort of test given before people are allowed to procreate.
Before running off to Wombs-R-Us, they should be tested for the ability to handle the stress of an unruly child in public places. Before being accepted as prospective parents by Egg-Stravaganza, Inc., perhaps there could be a sleep deprivation test.

Having children may be a right, but I consider it more of a privilege than a right and, I am afraid some people consider it more a rite than a right. Two teenage girls were walking through the shopping mall I refer to as Trumbull Babylon, one pushing a baby carriage and complaining that she could not get her homework done due to caring for her child. The other commiserated but then said, “I really want one, too. I don’t care about the homework.” Maybe the Egg Farm should move to the mall. I can see it now: Eddie Bauer Wombs competing with Womb-A-Rama. Wombs To Go cheek by jowl with Discount Wombs. Victoria’s Wombs going up against Select-A-Womb. For home delivery, just call Dial-A-Womb. The list could go on and on, but I’ll leave it here as I go to bed and curl into the fetal position.