Judging Other People's Joy and Why I Shouldn't Be Allowed on Pinterest
So you know how people who get to be super-old say stuff like “Back when I was young” or “In my day…” and then everyone rolls their eyes and takes pity on the poor old person who can’t get hip to the ways of today?
Yeah, get ready to roll those eyes of yours because this thirty-something old timer is about to lay it down.
Ok. Yesterday I was reading a benign article where the person was asking about etiquette or something, and they mentioned a “gender-reveal cake party.”
Uh, two things wrong here: 1, I was reading something about etiquette? I know, but I like to fit in with the natives sometimes. But 2, this can’t be real.
So I Googled it.
Holy crap, you guys, we’ve all lost our minds! The first few things that popped up were Pinterest Boards for various “gender reveal cake ideas.”
Wait, none of you guys reading my blog have done this, right? If so….uh, don’t read any more of this post and perhaps maybe you wouldn’t like me in real life?
Also, I’ve now started a Pinterest Page that totally gives away my gender: a chandelier in the bathroom, hot pink Kate Spade shoes, fancy headboards, and how to make the best White Strawberry-Lemon Sangria.
No, just kidding, that's CB's page.
It's....a girl? Give me a break
guys, I was new. And sleepy!
But back in my day (there it is!), I’m pretty sure my mom was like “Hey Dave, it’s a girl. Also, pass the lasagna.” But fine, whatever, we all know I like to celebrate pretty much anything, so if there’s, like, a reason to celebrate Tuesday, I’ll probably get on board.
So I can get down with the idea of being all cutesy and stuff by revealing it to your partner with some clever Pinterest idea that your husband makes you promise you’ll never tell anyone about so that he still gets invited to watch football on Sundays with the guys. Fine, deal, now open your pink flower balloon cupcake and let’s celebrate the miracle of life.
But come ON, people, you’re going to make your poor friends go to a party where they all have to sit around and wait for a pink or blue cake to come out so they can squeal and be super excited? Oh wait, do you hate your friends? Then that makes sense.
Sidebar: If you’d like to invite me to such a party, I will squeal in excitement, but only if I get the pink or blue flower on top of the cake. I for real love sweets. Truth.
Also, I know I sound a bit militant about this, which is a perfectly rational reaction to something you disagree with, but the moment I read it I figured I’d have some “Amen’s” in the audience. Yes? No?
Anyway, perhaps the moral of this story is that I’d like to speak for the masses and beg of you who are getting married and having babies to please not make me go to more parties outside of the traditional 114 or so that are currently acceptable.
And I, in turn, promise to forget that I made you make that promise when I get married or have kids because I for real love to party. True story.
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