Romney in the Room with My Legs in the Air

Romney in the Room with My Legs up in the Air

Women of America, our savior has come! Romney is running for president and he’s taken us into his hearts--and placed himself in our bodies. He's trying to take away our right to our body and our freedom to make decisions about our health.

It’s a well-known fact that women are the weaker of the two sexes. We think with our emotions, never with our minds.

Having a right to our body is just silly. How are we to make a coherent decision for ourselves when our brains are full of fluff?

Romney wants to make sure that he is there for us, especially when we’re in the room with our gynecologist, on our backs with our legs in stirrups.  As a man, he knows our bodies very well and has our best interest at heart.

That’s why he’s dedicated to banning our right to choose what we do with our bodies before we can make bad life decisions. After all, can it really be a choice if we’re unable to think clearly?

Let’s say I were to become unexpectedly pregnant (possibly because I didn’t have access to sex education or contraceptives because Planned Parenthood was defunded). Suppose that I made the difficult decision to terminate my pregnancy. Romney is there to stop me from making a wrong choice!

Romney will walk into my doctor’s appointment--with my feet up in the air--and will take his rightful place between my legs. “Stop!” he will say to me and close my legs. “You don’t know yourself! You don’t know what’s good for you!”

But as much as I protest, as much as I yell for help, I’ll thank him later, as I upchuck into the toilet for the 10th time that day. He’ll be there for me all nine months of my pregnancy, because the father of my child decided he wasn’t ready for a baby and decided to opt out of the pregnancy (that’s okay--if I couldn’t, he should at least be able to).

He will be there to hold back my hair as I vomit; there to make love to me when my hormones demand sexual attention, (because I will have no one who wants to be with a woman who’s gained 50 pounds and looks like she’s going to pop); there to go to my prenatal exams, and pay for them (because God knows I won’t be able to afford the medical appointments on my own!)

And when I’m in the delivery room, finally in hard labor after three days of “mild” to “moderate” contractions, he will be there holding my hand. He’ll be there for me as I grunt and scream, yell and vomit. He will once again be between my legs as the doctor performs an episiotomy to prevent my perineal from tearing as I push out an eight-pound child.

But then, as I force out the placenta, he’ll be gone.

I’ll look around for his support but he won’t be there anymore. As soon as the child becomes a citizen she won’t have Romney’s help anymore. Obamacare would have been overturned and as a young, unemployed single mother living off of vouchers, my child and I will have no health care.

Afterward, as I look back, I’ll realize that he had left my doctor’s room, as soon as he closed my legs.