I initially titled this post "Things Other People Like That I Do Not." I just wanted to tell you about a few things I don't dig, despite their abounding popularity. But as I wrote it out, I noticed a theme. Can you spot it?
- Sushi: Raw fish? Just no. No, no, no. I don't even like cooked fish; why would I want it uncooked? On the few occasions that I have attempted to eat sushi, I have always had the distinct sensation that a sea creature is actually dying inside my mouth as I chew.
- The color: I hate the color pink, unless it's of the '80s-style neon variety. I do not do Victoria's Secret or pale pink nail polish. (See #3.) This hue, the official color of girliness & sickeningly sweet old-fashioned feminity, makes my skin crawl. I do not wear pink. I simply do not do pink.
- The musical artist: Upon second thought, I'm not sure whether other people actually like Pink. My mom & my former boss do, but they may not count, by virtue of their titles. Still. How does this grown woman get away with making music - Top 40 music, no less - that contains the most awful, nonsensical lyrics ever written? Case in point: "Party Crasher, panty snatcher, call me up if you want gangsta. Don't be fancy, just get dancey." This is nothing.
- Nail polish: I haven't painted my nails in approximately five years, save some short-lived gold glitter polish for Halloween. Nail polish makes me feel like my hands are suffocating, which makes me feel like they're about to fall off, which makes me nervous. This is not a sensation I enjoy recreating.
- Children: OK, OK. I don't dislike kids. But I don't know what to do with them! When I'm around a kid - which isn't often because I don't know any kids - I clam up like I'm a nervous 9-year-old myself again. Also, I refuse to speak in wittle baby voices, so kids often seem confused by me. I don't like pretending; I don't do Barbies or house or lawn sports. And I just don't know what kids want from me. It all feels very suspicious.
- "Sex & the City": Perhaps this goes along with nail polish & the color pink. And children, come to think of it. Perhaps my woman parts are broken. But listen, I just can't bring myself to relate to or care about four high-pitched, whorish women who obsess over ugly men & designer shoes & ugly men. I don't even like high heels. And... oh, shoot, my woman parts are broken, aren't they?
Also on this list, though not a threat to my womanhood: pickles, Tumblr, "Mad Men," Beyonce, yellow cars, coffee.