Today I joined a zoom meeting from a conference room with several other people. At some point, a person asked whether the date to complete the sexual harassment training was a hard deadline. Several people chimed in with feedback as if everything was normal. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Are we being intentional with that pun?” I asked. It got some hard laughs in the room (ha). However, my boss looked at me, horrified and said, “Gross, Lindsey.” Then she muted our line, leaving all the virtual participants in the dark about what was so funny. You know what’s keeping me up at night about this? Not my inability to mask my perversion in a professional setting. Nor the irony that I somehow made sexual harassment training a sexual harassment. The most upsetting part is that I was muted and not allowed to repeat my incredible joke with the rest of the group. I WILL NOT BE SILENCED!!!
Last week I peeked in on instagram after closing my account last year. I’ve become out of touch with society, and this felt like a quick fix. It has been fun checking in on Gwyneth, Seth Rogan, and the gang. Heck, I’m even enjoying the ads. I’ve already bought one of Mindy Kaling’s new swimming suits. But then one night I was served a new ad. Initially it looked like a cool gal with a handy black fanny pack. “Hmm. Intriguing,” I thought.
But then the ad made its Call to Action for me, the Consumer:
“You Can Still Wear Crop Tops With This Stylish Ostomy Bag Cover!” 1
I walked with a near-stranger the other day who told me that she went on a date with someone super hot. “What did you guys do?” I asked. “Honey. It was 2am and a 25 minute encounter. What do you think we did?” When I told a friend about this, she ridiculed ME for being the one that crossed the boundary.
My child got out of the car recently and when I rolled down the window to tell him to have a good day he responded, “Your shirt is something an old lady would wear.”
I told my therapist (yep - trying that again) that “I feel nothing except embarrassment” when she asked what I was feeling. When asked to clarify, I said, “Well. It’s embarrassing that you’re asking about my feelings. And on top of that, it’s embarrassing that I literally feel nothing except embarrassment because it seems like other people can actually feel their feelings and I can’t and that obviously means I’m failing your test.” We ended the chat with her telling me my homework over the next few weeks, which was to try tolerating my emotions without getting embarrassed. “Good job,” she said before hanging up. (Which was very embarrassing.)
I received an email this morning with this subject line: “Are you numbing out with all the ice cream, Lindsey?”
Why does the internet hate me.
I’m very glad that people who DO need ostomy bags have stylish options. I’m just not in the market for one in any possible way so it’s upsetting.
“My child got out of the car recently and when I rolled down the window to tell him to have a good day he responded, “Your shirt is something an old lady would wear.” “
Laughed properly at this. Your child sounds like my child. 🤝 (also, it’s not) x