Taking a cue from one of my online forums, I would like to share the best plan ever for eliminating teen pregnancy: simply make a very long list of all the things a woman is unable to do after she has birthed her child. It would go like this:
What you want to do:
Go to sleep at midnight, sleep in as long as you want to, then have a leisurely breakfast while watching TV.
What you do with a kid:
Put them down at 8, comfort them at 8:14, 8:39, and 9:02. Fetch 2 dollies, a monkey, and a small car from the back seat of your SUV in your underwear with your face half-washed. You're so frazzled that you can't fall asleep until midnight, despite a glass of warm milk, 3 episodes of Scrubs, and a Unisom. Your child wakes up at 4:41 screaming, "Daddy go uppa ladder getta duck! OH NOES!!", and you slog into her room to calm her. You get back to sleep by 5:30. Your child wakes up at 6:12 and informs you she'd like some avocado. You go downstairs in the dark, strap her into her high chair, and groggily shove a spoonful of avocado at her, while she screams, bats the spoon into a green smear on the wall, and hollers, "WANT YOGURT!" As she coats herself and the floor with yogurt, you go to pour a bowl of cereal and find that she has eaten all the Cheerios, the bananas are inexplicably black, and the only milk left is whole milk. Whatever you decide to eat becomes the object of your child's deepest desire, and you hand it over, wondering if you'll be able to convince her that Chik-fil-A is "yucky icky food that grownups have to eat when they're bad" once lunch rolls around.
What you want to do:
Go to the mall to shop with a girlfriend, stop by a cute bistro for lunch and a latte while reading a fashion magazine, get a manicure, pedicure, and haircut. Then come home to veg with a movie and some ice cream.
What you do with a kid:
Go to the gym, because it's the only place where no one notices if you haven't showered in two days, plus they actually watch your kid for you. Kinda. Spend 15 minutes doing weights while people silently judge you for either being fat and flabby or working too hard while pregnant. Spend 1.5 hours on the treadmill walking 2 miles per hour while reading a book because it's actually pretty restful and quiet, compared to chasing your child. From the treadmill area, you see a 6 year old pick up your toddler by one leg and swing them around while a bored childcare worker files her nails.
Get somewhat cleaned up, rescue your child, and take her to the mall to play in the soft play area and eat lunch. The soft play area is full of neglected children without parents who beg for attention and food and attempt to stomp on the hands of unattended babies. Your child is not interested in the safe area and runs out the open door, again, towards the escalator, wearing Crocs. You chase her all over the mall and only set off 3 alarms as she tries to smuggle Build-a-Bears out before anyone notices. The food court is under construction and the carousel is closed, so when she sees the silent animals, she starts screaming for it with every fiber of her being. You manage to calm her down and purchase a fruit cup and milk, and as she eats grapes off the table, you get disapproving stares from the next table over, when the mom stops smoking and talking on her cell phone long enough to yell at her kid to shut up, already, as he turns red and chokes in his stroller. As your child starts crying because she's out of strawberries, you forget to eat your own lunch again and rush from the angry stares of people who think the mall food court should be a quiet and peaceful place to eat.
Oh, and the manicure, pedicure, and hair cut? What's the point? You can't go, because children aren't allowed in those establishments. And if they were, you still wouldn't go, because there are too many toxic fumes from acrylic nails and hair dyes and perms. And even if you did find a way to get there and get your pampering done, you'd be worrying about how your child was torturing the babysitter and how you're going to pay for a $55 haircut when you're already over budget for the month. And, as the final stroke of death, you remember that no one actually looks at mothers with small children. You can't be a MILF until your kids go to school, so you might as well be just another struggling frump with a tiny, parasitic dictator attached like a second head.
I could go on. But seriously, if drippy green pictures of STDs won't convince a 15 year old to abstain, just explain that they will not be able to enjoy a leisurely day of indulgence for the next 15 years.
That should totally do it.