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I Couldn't Turn My Abortion Into Art

A Brooklyn woman writes of her traumatic abortion in the New York Times. This is far from a pro-life piece. Hey, it's in the Times, whaddya' expect. But it shows the lie of those who say abortion is easy peasy, like getting a tooth pulled.

I had just turned 22 and I had the self-esteem of a squashed toad. This may explain why I was having an affair with a married 36-year-old sound mixer whom I’d met on a film shoot a couple of months earlier. I’d had only one serious boyfriend by this time and recently had been asked for the first time, “Can I buy you a drink?” by a man. (He was an actor in a film I’d worked on the summer before; he asked everybody that question, but still it felt like progress.) Somehow, by that tender age, I had convinced myself that I should take what I could get. So I took the married sound mixer. And then, a few months later, I rolled out of bed at an unreasonably early hour and vomited.
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