May I have some cheese with my whine?

Oh-gee-oh-joy.

Pop princess Britney Spears is a mom to a little boy. There's a scary thought.

I seem to be dwelling on this since I found out yesterday. Obviously, this news is really bothering me. In my opinion, the girl is talentless and lucky. Very lucky.

She's lucky because she's got a baby to cuddle. She's lucky that she lives a seemingly charmed life. She's lucky that she thinks about motherhood for all of two seconds, and poof, her wish is granted. How the fuck is that fair?!

I'm ashamed that the green-eyed monster has reared her head, but how the hell am I supposed to feel? Should I be doing cartwheels over this princess and her freeloading, sperm-donor of a husband, who have received the greatest gift I can imagine? Should I be thanking the powers-that-be that another mother has been spared the hell I've been enduring the last five weeks?

Yes, I'm feeling a tad bit bitter at the moment. I'm bitter that I'm 36 and may possibly never have another pregnancy, let alone another child. I'm bitter that my little boy was fighting the odds from the time he was conceived. And I'm bitter that I don't have him here right now to hold and love till the day I die. How is it that someone like her can be entrusted to nurture a new life, but I wasn't worthy enough to do the same?

Okay ... I'll take that cheese now.