PMS has its grips on me at the moment. For me, it manifests in three ways: 1. feeling all wimpy, 2. feeling kind of grumpy, and 3. wanting to eat cheetos. I wonder if you can tell already where this is going?
At a break at work today, I decided to submit to my Cheeto cravings and get a bag of Cheetos from the snack machine. Therefore I rooted up the appropriate change from my backpack and went out into the hall to get my crispy/salty crack-like snack. While I was feeding nickels into the vending machine, one of the managers from a different team came by and commented snidely, “you know nothing in that machine is good for you.” I snarked back at him: “do I look like I care?” He got all earnest and “yeah I thought you would be all health conscious since you ride your bicycle everywhere and bring your lunches and stuff,” whereupon I set him on the path of my food philosophy of “crappy snacks, in moderation, probably won't kill me,” to which he replied something along the lines of “not immediately.” It was at this juncture that I offered the opinion that a lesser woman might just kick him right in the butt and call it a day.
Good-freakin-grief. I passed health class, at least twice. I know from beneficial foods. I'm actually a hell of a cook. Moreover, I'm a grown-assed woman, and feel that it is my prerogative to make my own food choices, be they wise or foolish. Sheesh. My body, my responsibility, right?
This guy also comes by my desk to tell me to “smile, it can't be that bad,” and actually, some days it can. Or sometimes I am working on something difficult which requires concentration, and well, I might not be singing, dancing, and farting daisies while I'm doing those chores.
It's not my place to give this man a Come-To-Jesus, and even if I did have that option, I don't think it would do much good. It's ingrained in him to have a kind of proprietary, paternalistic attitude toward women, especially younger ones, and I don't think that there's much hope of him ever getting the message. Barring that, my other daydream is to be able to tell him (and a couple of other annoying people) “look…just don't talk to me. Ever.” It would sure save a lot of time and annoyance. I'm sure there are a few people who feel this way about me. It would save the world a lot of needless frustration if we were mutually free to say, “you know what? No. Thank. You.”
While I'm on the topic of people climbing my back, I might as well mention that I get peeved all out of proportion when people give me unsolicited advice about my bike. You don't approve of my pedals? Think my seat's too low, too high, too wide, too narrow, too ugly? Do you feel I am mashing too high of a gear or spinning too low of one? Ah, it's a crying shame and a vast pity that you aren't me, and you aren't enjoying the ride on this bike the way I am. Because guess what? You are not me. Perhaps the way you set up your bike would not suit me in the least. I know that I am comfortable, I get around just fine, and believe me, my knees, butt, shoulders, and nothing else are hurting due to my setup. Maybe it's not like how the pros do, but guess what? I'm not a pro. I'm not a racer, and I'm not a weekend warrior rec rider. I spend stupid amounts of time on this machine, and I am happy with how it works for me. If I wasn't, I'd have changed it already. Jeeze.