Everything I learned about girls, I learned from the internet. I am pretty much a scientist.

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When you have two boys, people treat you like you are in this weird state of girl purgatory.

Gotta keep trying for that girl, eh?

Still chasing your girl, eh?

I heard this crap all the time.  From, what appears to be, Canadian strangers.  While I was pregnant and pushing a cart full of boys through Target looking for the Vaseline, which is totally never where you think it is.

And I was like, dude, what’s wrong with only having boys?

Look at the fucking Jonas Brothers!

Three boys who play musical instruments, harmonize, and don’t let girls play with their wieners?

Best thing ever, right!?

I mean, I’m too young to be a grandmother, and teenage pregnant people are fucking insane, have you seen 16 and Pregnant?!  They are irrational, and homicidal, and they can get away with empire waist halter tops from fucking Hot Topic their entire pregnancy, and that makes me stabby.

So yeah, three boys who go onto pop stardom and virgin rings?  Um, sure.

Plus, I think if you tell everyone you want another boy, then you won’t get the pity parties, or the maybe next times, or the ohhhh, I guess God didn’t want you to raise girls bullshit.

But, here’s the thing.  I wanted a girl.  Really, really, really bad.

I ached for it.

To have something else in this house with fucking ovaries and little toenails I could paint.

So I googled stuff, and came up with my own super secret baby girl recipe.

Well, it was a secret, until last night when I was chatting with some of my bestest friends, and I had to spill the beans.

And now, this is where I tell you how baby girls are made.*

If you want a girl, the basic concept is that when it comes to sperm, boy making sperm? Gigantic pussies.  Girl making sperm?  Fucking amazons.

Girl sperm are way stronger and live longer than boy sperm.  So, it became my goal to kill the boy sperm before they got all up in my eggs.

This is sooo way harder than it sounds, and I could not talk Andy into wearing little boy underpants so they would get squeezed to death, or let me blow his balls with a super hot hair dryer.

It’s like I am the only one who even cares anymore.

I also read that when you want to have a girl, you should have an acidy vagina.  Which totally freaked me out at first, because I remember in Fight Club when Brad Pitt put acid on Edward Norton’s hand, and it was fucking disgusting, but that on the plus side, I would never ever have to get waxed again.

Turns out?  Completely off base on the whole acidy vagina issue.

Sidenote:  In case anyone is interested, after this conversation, the girls and I totally formed a rock group called Hasidic Vagina.  Think Simon and Garfunkle meets Lady Gaga…with way more eyeliner and fish nets.  It’s going to be mind blowing.

Anyways.

It relates more to the food you eat, like acidy fruits, than to third degree labia scalding.

So yes, a week of three square meals of fruit, and a couple accidental nut kickings later…we were pregnant.

But, I still had to wait, like, 20ish weeks until my body did it’s whole Harry Potter magic shit to the fetus to see if it worked.

And obviously?

I’m a genius.

P.S.  In a strange turn of events, my husband now totally digs the hair dryer thing.

*I’m pretty sure, medically speaking, this has a 50% chance of failing, so don’t blame me when your little girl comes out with balls.