Birthers: Spec-fic

The ointment was still thick and tacky on her hands when the next call came. She sighed and wiped it off. No good now; the birthing fluids would eat right through it. Even with her special gloves, she had to be careful, and enough of the fumes sank in to make the skin of her arms rough and raw. It took only a look at her arms for any to know that she was one of the birthers. It got her good deals when she went to the market, and a little extra deference whenever she went, but she still missed the smooth skin of her girlhood, before she began her apprenticeship. She was surrounded by life being born, yet sometimes she felt that it caused her to miss her chance. What man would want a mate with arms so torn up by the birthing fluids that they sometimes wept sores, or were so rough to the touch--

Inspiration: lotion
Story Potential: low
Notes: An odd profession.