absolutangel64

I can’t remember when I last saw a teenage mother. It must have been when I was in high school–most likely my senior year because I recall the theme of my senior prom being “Have a Baby or Die!” I might be mistaken, but I doubt it since quite a few ho-bags showed up pregnant.

Anyway, I only realized how long it’s been since I saw a child-mommy because I just drove past one. I’ll admit that I am really bad at determining a person’s age just by their looks…my guesses are usually too low; so I’m going to give a rough estimate, taking into consideration my weak age-guessing skills.

Baby-Mama was about 14-15 years old, and could not have been any more than a high school sophomore. Next her, pushing a baby carriage, was her baby-daddy. Baby-Daddy also looked as if he was 14-15 years old…and he looked miserable pushing that stroller around on a Friday afternoon. Then behind the two parents was their Goth friend who was probably planning to see “Spider-Man 3” with Baby-Daddy after school, but had his plans sabotaged when Baby-Mama’s Mama called and said Baby-Daddy needed to take his kid out for a stroll.

Normally, I would have found some sort of sick pleasure in watching these two high schoolers live their ruined childhoods, but I didn’t derive any glee this time. Actually, I felt sorry for them–very, very, sorry. It’s not so much that they are possibly going to miss out on being kids–because that’s really not as much fun as your college-age years–it’s more that they can’t do anything without being forced to think about their child. And that’s such a huge burden. I can barely get any sleep when I know I’ve run low on toilet paper and have to go get some in the morning. That’s stressful for me–it wastes precious, precious studying time–so can you imagine what I would be like if I had to take care of a child? I’d probably want to get away from the kid, but my fear of going to Hell would keep me from throwing the baby in a trashcan (the preferred method for the women of USC–and you know I’ve got school pride); I’d most likely end up convincing myself that I’m really a billy goat and run off to live in the mountains with my brethren…or wherever billy goats live. That way I could avoid my parental responsibilities without being quite so immoral. But that’s just me…

Where am I going with this? I have no clue; I just wanted to mention that I saw some teen-parents. I guess I was excited about it or something…the same way you would be if you happened to cross paths with Lindsay Lohan just before she got crushed by a bus. That’s how thrilled I was.