Heavy handbags I'd rather not carry,
beckoning men I don't want to attract,
intended for babies I'll never have.
Back pain inflicters, cancer hostesses—
I never liked them, and now even less.
Heavy handbags I'd rather not carry,
heading south, resembling my mother's.
They bounce when I run (it hurts, goddammit).
Intended for babies I'll never have,
they itch, they ache, they're always in the way.
What woman has a bra that won't torture?
Heavy handbags I'd rather not carry,
they itch, they ache, they're always in the way.
Arriving first like the prow of a ship,
and intended for babies I'll never have.
Who would design such ridiculous cargo
just in case, just in case, just in case, just in case?
Heavy handbags I'd rather not carry,
intended for babies I'll never have.