Things have been happening at work that have led me to believe that I was not born with some chromosome necessary for the survival of the Southern Woman. In fact, I am so deficient my co-workers could actually be plotting to inject me with some serum that will make me a better, more enthused fit within the group.
On Friday there was a bridal shower for a girl I work with. I had not previously thought her to be so... girly. But the room draped in white crepe paper and white Chinese lanterns and yellow roses and white battery-operated candles and a white-board covered in cutesy pictures. White-board, you said? Why yes, it was in a conference room at work. There was all of the food- white sheet cake covered in white icing with little plastic silver wedding bands stuck in the top of each piece, punch, nuts, mints, and a veggie tray (hardly touched, except by the three skinny girls on Weight-Watchers).
All of that was fine, and expected. But the really irritating part was the video camera. And the digital camera. And the Ohhhing and Ahhhing over every little thing. "Ohhh! A sombrero-shaped chip & dip bowl!" "Ahhhhhhh! A blender for individual smoothies!!!!!!" Gag me. It was all so fake, so trite, and so... estrogen-filled. I'm not doing that. MHM and I are eloping, I swear. I hate that crap.
The Bride at work is best friends with the Glamazon, who is 4 1/2 months pregnant. Yesterday she went to get her sonogram (ultrasound? is there a difference?), and find out the sex of the baby. You would think we were awaiting the status of, say, a major earthquake. People kept calling Bride to see if she'd heard from Glamazon, and she'd take on a very serious tone and say, "No, we've heard nothing yet. I'll call you as soon as I know." The tension was, for many, unbearable.
Finally, the call came. Bride put Momma-to-be on speaker phone. In a fit of calm, controlled maturity, she took a deep breath and said, "Yes, we know the sex of the baby...." (At this point I could just imagine her laying on the table, with her shirt pulled up and gel all over her tummy, peering at the screen.) There was a fit of incoherent squealing, which apparently meant she's expecting a girl. From there it was like the Bride went into battle-mode. She made a flurry of phone calls, saying in a very high excited, squeaky voice, "PINK! It's PINK! Yes, we're so excited! PINK!" Then she'd hang up and do it all over again. Gross.
I don't want to sound like I'm against weddings or babies or anything like that. I think weddings are so optimistic and touching. I invariably cry at them. And I LOVE babies. I could start in about perfect toes and noses, but I won't. Babies are beautiful. Kids are fun. I'm a kid person, I've au paired and babysat for YEARS. The best part for me is seeing the unbridled curiosity as they explore and learn about their worlds. Okay, I'm stopping now. Really.
I just really don't like the gushymushy, overly dramatic atmosphere going on. Weddings to me are about marriage. Babies are about starting a family. It's not about registries and pink streamers, it's about a whole new phase in your life. I wish it was treated more seriously than PINK! It's definitely PINK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wait, I take that back. Registries are pretty nice.