My uterus and I had to have a talk after I met this baby. My uterus was all, 'You know we could make us one of those. It'd be great! It'd be a little version of you and a testament to the miracle that is my mostly unused self!' And I was all, 'Really? That's a GOOD IDEA, uterus!' And then I realised this baby had a daddy, and if I was to have a child at this point in time it'd likely be conceived in a haze of cheap wine, music talk and awkward fumbling for underwear, and then I said, 'Uterus, you know babies can't take care of their own bodily functions?' And then my uterus was all 'Shit, bitch, neither of us is up for that.' Then my uterus ate a lamington, somehow, and I ate a lamington, and we were happy again.