Ok, SUPER swamped today that I didn’t even realize my “scheduled post” didn’t post! (sneaking in 5 minutes while at class – shame on me….) Let me introduce you to the dearest of dears, a woman who has been a voice of encouragement for me on many a blue day. This darling writes about a little bit of everything, though her post today might spark some controversy. Comments are off so you can go say hello to
– thanks doll!
Al and I have been blog friends for quite some time now, and I just love her to pieces! I am so happy I could help her out a bit by supplying some of my own musings to give her a much needed blogging break for the month of July. And if you know me, you’ll know my musing are
in short supply, so this was a win, win situation! ;-p Shall we get down to business?
A Discussion on The Ills of Showering
No, not taking a shower, silly. I hope you partake in that most primal of cleansing rituals. And often. I’m talking about the throwing, attending, and surviving of showers…you know of the bridal and baby variety.
LOTS of you are going to disagree with me on this one. It’s ok. I’m prepared. As soon as I hit “publish” I’m going to go hide behind a rock. But for those of you who share my shower-phobia, I hope this post will extend to you the balm of knowing that, indeed, you’re not alone.
We all have attended showers before. Some of you might even go so far as to say you love “shower-ing”! But if you will set aside the excessive sugar high caused by the abundance of requisite lavish shower fare for a moment, let’s take a closer look at what these little innocently packaged soirees reeeeeallly are…
Showers are thrown for a guest of honor, right?! Typically a trepidatious first timer: either a giddy, blushing, bride-to-be or a great-with-child, radiant, mother-in-waiting. – Think about it: they are both just bubbling over with every emotion known to man. They are fragile. Anticipatory. Vulnerable. – And so we do the loving, sensitive thing and embarrass the heck out of them.
Let’s tell them about the most mortifying moments from our own weddings, or that our babies cried for 8 months straight after they were born. How ’bout let’s hold up all their underwear and pass it around for everyone to touch? While we’re at it, we could measure their belly so that we can, indeed, confirm that they are officially HUGE. What about asking their hubby-to-be lots of questions that she has to guess the answer to on the spot, and then find out that… whoops! guess they’re not compatible after all! What a shame…the invitations have already been sent for their big day…
Then there is the whole gift situation. Actually that warrants caps. And quotes. “The Gift Situation”. Some people looooooooove watching other people open up gifts. That’s the whole reason they attend the showers! Well, that, and the cake. – I’m just gonna say it. I don’t get you people. – I’d rather get a root canal. – Perhaps this is directly related to my sensitive nature, ahem, but I usually develop several bleeding stomach ulcers during “The Gift Situation”.
The first is caused by the fact that at 95% of showers I’ve attended, there are duplicate gifts. So said ulcer #1 is caused while hoping upon hope that the guest-of-honor opens MY gift first. That way any gifts that come after mine (potential duplicates) will be considered the “copy-cats”. But my gift isn’t usually opened first, so I hold my breath for every.single.gift. that is opened, praying that it won’t resemble what is hidden under my shower-approved mountainous fluff of tissue paper. –
The next ulcer is caused from feeling overwhelming empathy for that sweet guest who could only afford to buy washcloths, or perhaps a small bib – it was a gift given from the heart, and was proportionally a sacrifice from her bank account! But that sweet sacrificial gift moment is then rapidly eclipsed by the rich aunt who gives the 12 china place settings or perhaps the super-deluxe-ultra-amazing-will-do-everything-but-change-your-baby stroller. I just want to jump up and go console that poor girl who gave those blessed washcloths… and who is now shrinking slowly under her chair in embarrassment. –
But perhaps the worst ulcer of all is caused by that ever-fresh remembrance of what it was like to BE the guest-of-honor. To have to invent 276 ways to say, “OH MY GOSH I LOVE IT!!!!!” Even when the gift is a purple leopard print thong (or the dreaded repeat gift). – Somehow there is an unspoken expectation that the GOH (guest of honor) must also act surprised – which I will never understand, since they spent days picking out all the gifts themselves. (Hello. Everybody knows it’s from your registry!) – Geesh. I’m get ulcers just talking about ulcers.
The worst of it all?! There IS an alternative people! What say, we honor these dear ladies in our lives with a relaxing luncheon – no spotlight, no stress, no fake delight-filled exclamations, no 10,000 calorie desserts (let’s face it, a bride won’t eat those decadant snacks because she wants to still fit into her wedding gown, and a mom-to-be won’t eat it for fear of gestational diabetes, so WHO exactly are those sinfully full three tiered trays for??).
What if we just surround them with the support of their friends? We can all write in our cards just how very special they are to us. We can let them open their gifts in the privacy of their own home (alone). We can give them a long hug when we leave as we whisper in their ear that we love them, and are praying that all will go perfectly on their big day.
But no, I doubt it will ever catch on…there will always be those who feel that showers should provide a good healthy dose of lady-like”hazing” world without end.
And I fully realize that after writing this, I may well have been invited to my very last shower ever. But you know what?! (gasp) I think I’d be ok with that.
Thanks for letting me come wax verbose over at your place today Al! Love ya!