The New York Times ran an article recently with the rather fascinating headline: “Eager for Grandchildren, and Wanting Daughters’ Eggs in Freezer”.
The front-page story was about the growing phenomenon of American parents helping their single daughters to freeze their eggs for later use – at a cost of anywhere between $A 7,500 and $17,000. Why? Well, as 61-year-old Candice Kramer put it: “By the time Allison was 35, I felt the clock was tick-tick-ticking. I viewed it as opening up an opportunity for her.”
Call it a grandchild insurance policy. With women increasingly deferring babies until later in life, America’s would-be grandparents are investing in hope.
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At school, we’re taught plenty of specific ways about how to take care of ourselves physically. Exercise four times a week for at least 30 minutes - because it can be kinda fun to run around anyway. Drink, but don’t get plastered. Eat two fruit and five veg a day.
It’s all handy advice. Those principles go out the window sometimes, but if you’ve been taught them years ago in a classroom in the first place then you’re more likely to get back on track.
And we can often tell if we need to be taking better care of our bodies. There are telltale signs: stiffness from lack of exercise, tighter belts, beginning to resemble one of those exercise balls people do ab crunches on.
But it’s a lot more difficult to figure out when we’re not mentally healthy. We don’t know how to take care of our brains as well as we do our bodies.
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Dear body, I’m writing to say sorry. You’ve copped a right hammering over the years. Honestly, you could take yourself off to a home for battered bodies, on account of the physical and emotional abuse you’ve endured.
Sure, I’ve never cut you, starved you or shoved heroin into you. But there’s something pretty ugly about constantly comparing you and always finding you wanting. Slimmer, more sculpted, wider-eyed, smaller-nosed, longer-limbed, more honey-toned, less freckly, less spotted, less wrinkled, less… just less, freakin’ less of you. Especially you, thighs – you’ve ruined my life.
For a long time, I thought I was the only one haranguing you for your inadequacies. Turns out, we’re all at it.
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