Dear Childless Bitch:
I needed more than a cosmo to digest "The Childless Bitch On Friends With Kids." I needed a shovel it was filled with so much bullsh__.
First, I'm betting you are way past your "single, sexy and freakin' fantastic days" if you have this many friends who are schlepping kids. What, 32, 33? How are J-Date and E-Harmony working out for you?
Second, I'd also lay odds on the fact that my cave, which ain't no "starter home," beats your rental full of Ikea.
Are you sure your "gold-studded path" isn't leading you to a lonely destination, because you are sounding quite bitter.
Where is your cave, anyway? In Bedrock? Cause where I live, in the real world, we have big girl nights out that sometimes involve big boys too. What a concept! "Girls Night Out" is frequent and is attended by intelligent, smart and sexy women who could race you down the street in their stiletto Jimmy Choos and beat you to Barney's where they are buying the newest Dior Gaucho Bag with the extra cash they picked up from selling you the used Fendi and Christian Louboutin stuff on eBay. More importantly, they can live with the bag or without it, because their lives are filled with many things more important than the latest and greatest handbag.
Their children, like mine, are not drooling or having regularity problems. They have experienced more culture than you, who obviously has enough time to catch up on Beverly Hillbillies re-runs. As for restless leg syndrome, the only "restless leg" in my house is "Mr. Big," and that is not a person's name.
Speaking of abs, I have spit out two kids and will put my six-pack out there against yours or his any day. I am about to compete in a sprint tri-athalon. Want to do it with me? Or are you too busy with hair and nails? The masseuse can come too. Let me know. I am sure I can find a pair of bike tights you can fit in and we'll have some time to bond. My husband and children, who'll be cheering for me, may even manage a "WAH WAH WAH!" for you.