Analy-sis

No, no I get it! Hell, I'm a feminist too. I'd never dream of claiming that I know what's best for all women everywhere; and especially not that what is best for them is giving up their careers and their independence to become the owned, bred, brainless stepford wives who obey their husband's every word-barefoot and pregnant, in the kitchen.

It's just that, in your case, it's pretty clear that's what you need.

Come on. The way your face reddens every time one of your married coworkers talks about "trying for a baby"? The way your eyes went glassy when the subject of tradwives came up at the pub the other week? And what about when we saw Barbie together? I saw the way you squirmed in your seat when all those empowered women showed up brainwashed and in maid outfits. Sure, the movie played it as a joke - but it wasn't for you, was it?

Admit it, you're burnt out. You've been working harder and longer than anyone should have to work, and you're doing it for what? Because you were a gifted kid, and you need to live up to your potential? Because the norms of feminism say all women should be able to pursue careers? Because you're worried about what your parents will say if you quit? Forget it. You and I both know none of that's a good enough reason for you to run yourself ragged, day after day, in an endless spiral where the only reward you get for doing your work well is... more work.

There's an escape, and you know what it is. It's to give in. To let those fantasies you've repressed consume you. To quit your job, quit your values, crawl to a man's feet, and beg him to breed you.