I get it, you love to run and you’re killing it every day in preparation for some ridiculously pointless marathon when we all know the real satisfaction you get is from having enviable legs.
I get it, Crossfit has changed your life and you now firmly believe that if everyone did it, they would all be similarly transformed.
I get it, you only eat meat and your diet makes you strong like bull.
I get it, you only eat veggies and secretly wish to lynch bacon-lovers and throttle those who think Vegan is a newly-discovered planet.
I get it, you don’t really want anyone to know exactly what you’re talking about, but feel compelled to get something off your chest, so you opt for irritating ambiguity, your posts so obscure nobody knows whether it’s actually time to orchestrate an intervention.
We are all to some extent guilty.
I happen to inundate fellow users with pictures of my children. My children being cute, being annoying, being funny, just being.
If they turned out blurry, I just photoshop the shit out of them.
If the first 13 pictures didn’t turn out, I keep taking pictures until I arrive at the winner.
If I happen upon another adorable moment to capture, I am a-gonna post it even if it comes just several minutes after my previous post of my adorable, sweet little spawn.
So, do you get it? I love my kids. Get it?
It’s so strange how much social media has dramatically altered our interaction with acquaintances. I say “acquaintances” because even though I know every single person on my “friends list”, I have probably only seen 10 of them in person in a social setting in the past year. (Oh, those are all family members.)
In the year 2005, I wouldn’t have been caught dead sharing the mundane details of my everyday life with people in casual conversation.
I would never have randomly mentioned that my year has been a complete cluster one week in.
I would never have walked up to someone every few hours to say, “Look at how awesomely cute my kid is” or “I ran X amount of miles this morning” or “Ugh, can’t believe it’s happened again. No, I won’t tell you what I’m referring to. I’ve mastered the art of the compelling tease with no reward.”
Now, we’re all guilty of oversharing and we come with plethora of justifications.
“I share all the pictures of my kids for my relatives who don’t live nearby.”
“I’m just trying to keep myself motivated.”
“I’m bored.”
So many people suggest putting down the smartphone, getting off the ipad and actually interacting with people. Well, I’m a hardcore introvert. I’ve never been one to suggest an outing with pals and now that I have children, I run from social interaction like it’s a flesh-starved zombie.
“Wait, you just wanted to… talk?”
I could sit around and read your posts and feel outraged that running gives me shin splints. I could feel guilty about the bacon I had with breakfast or the massive pile of Thai for lunch with all it’s Gluteny, gluttonous goodness.
I could even internally debate whether to ask you what your post ACTUALLY means while seething in frustration for several minutes.
But, I’m not going to hide you from my feed.
Because I get it. I get it and you’re gonna keep on getting it too, cause my kids are my world.
They provide me with the sweetest, most joyful moments of my day and then turn around and suck the sleep out of my nights and destroy me with their asshole antics.
By all means, keep shoving whatever “your shit” is down my throat.
In return, I give you… my edited life in snippets and snapshots. Enjoy.
Living The American Scream 