Here is a list of things I'm officially tired of hearing about at the moment:
Gabby Douglas's hair: Gabby Douglas is a beautiful, extraordinarily talented girl. So why the fuss over her hair? I'm tired of hearing mothers, who pay exorbitant amounts of moolah to have chemicals drenched and a weave sewn into their own young daughters' hair, criticizing the care and keeping given by our national hero's mama. Her hair is, yes, relaxed and then pulled into a bun when working... like every other gymnasts' on earth. Then, off duty, she wears the exact same hairstyle as my own teen-aged niece. So the real question is, You got a problem with my niece's hair?
Miley's hair: I absolutely love Miley Cyrus's new hairdo! It suits her face, it suits her personality and it definitely suits her age. So why do I keep reading headlines of shock and awe about whether there are deeper issues involved in this celebrity's haircut? The world has no control over any one person's personal style choices and the sooner the world realizes this, the happier I'll be. She is not really Hannah Montana! And, besides, *secret to be spilt* Hannah Montana wore a wig. I tried a very short hair cut myself in my twenties, the best time to experiment with extreme fashion. I even tried to frost it to this shade of platinum, but mine turned out yellow instead. Shocked? Nope. Jealous? Absolutely.
Lindsay Lohan. Period.: Once upon a time, I watched Freaky Friday, Confessions of Teenage Drama Queen and Mean Girls so many times with my niece that I couldn't even venture a guess at the tally. She was such a promising young actress at the time and then something went slightly off kilter. The world took notice, then something went drastically wrong. The world, then, never stopped paying attention, perpetuating a spiral that apparently was never to be recovered from. World: Please, stop looking at her. It's the only cure. (Remember Speidi? No? Good. See, my theory is now proven.)
Passive/aggressive Facebook posts featuring unsolicited parental advice: We get it, we get it... you're a good mom or dad. No one doubted you. No one needed proof. And, certainly no one wanted advice that didn't ask for it. You see, being a good parent isn't a rarity. Most parents I know are pretty great at it. So, quit assuming you're way is best when most other parenting styles are working just as effectively. Don't expect the world to praise you for refusing to vaccinate. Don't expect a trophy for forcing your child to go vegan. And, the world will absolutely not be throwing a banquet in your honor because you chose to breastfeed until the age of five. The sooner you realize this, the sooner friends will start "liking" your statuses again.
The chemicals I may be ingesting, at my own will, as a grown human being: Going along with the previous category; I myself don't need advice about my own diet either. I have been eating meat, dairy, processed foods, carbs, preservatives and additives my entire life. And, guess what? I have my doctor's seal of approval! If a number skews ever-so-slightly in a worrisome direction upon any visit, we make the appropriate dietary adjustments to correct and move on. So, while I salute your self-control and your acquired taste for foods that taste like yard grass, while I tolerate your tolerance to ingest a product with the word "germ" in its title... I am uninterested in participating. I eat, not for political or social agenda, but to stay fueled and living. Seeing that I'm upright at the moment, breathing and typing... it appears that my way works too. (Remember: It's your b.m.'s that are unusual in color and texture, not mine.)
Your political convictions: Newsflash! Your offensive critiques, exhausting Facebook rants and "clever" memes have yet to sway a single soul. Yes, you're passionate. You have your convictions. But, guess what? We all do! And, they're rarely identical. That's why we show up at those polling stations with the little walled off booths that make one's vote private and sacred. The way they were meant to be.
The designer names of your attire: When you're talking about your shoes, they're not your "Jimmy Choos", they're your shoes. When your putting on your jacket, your not putting on your "Burberry", it's simply your jacket to rest of the world. When you're digging through your purse, you're not digging through your "Louis Vuitton", it's just a bag, for the love of Pete! If you feel the need to turn every label into a noun, think long and hard about why you feel the need to do that and then be very sad with yourself. If you, then, still feel the need to pronounce your "Gucci"s, I'll give you a head start while zip up my Gaps and lace up my Targets.
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