Today I had an, “I was meant to be somewhere else, but why?” kind of day.
I’ll explain. In the movie Sliding Doors, Gwyneth is running for her train, and misses it at the last minute. We are offered a parallel view of what would have happened if she had caught the train, in that case, arriving home early enough to catch her scum boyfriend cheating on her.
Sort of the same thing happened to me. While I was spared the London Underground and scum boyfriend deal, when I got to work I found out that math had been cancelled, and I was being sent somewhere else.
At my job, when your class is cancelled you either A) luck out and get that time off, with pay, or B) have to cover another class at no extra $$. It's easy to see how option A is preferable.
And so today, being out of luck and having my own Sliding Doors kind of day, I was sent to the special class.
It's really called Adult Development; I call it, the bunch the nature left behind. For all kinds of reasons, these are the people that need to go back in time and do some re-structuring to become more… okay I’m at a loss for words… “profound” members of society? That’s definitely not what I was looking for, but it’ll spare me the food fight of political incorrectness, should I go on.
But to give you a better idea of what I was dealing with, this is the third time I’ve covered the special class, and each so far has had it’s own memorable query. I’ll enlighten you.
Class #1: after a brief introduction of light aerobisizing to classical music, the topic of the day was, "Do we all really feel safe here?"
Class #2: actual question asked by student: “How many of you here have been involuntarily committed to a mental health care facility?” Of about 20 people in the room, only one hand did not go up. Mine.
And today, Class #3: “You don’t need to have sex with other people when you can have sex with yourself. It’s the same thing.”
Whoa, Nelly. It’s not in my job description to participate in lectures, but I’m sure the sudden grimace on my face was more than enough. Not that I don’t enjoy the fine and subtle arts of self-love, but I’m most positive that sex with others vs. sex with yourself are most definitely separate and individual experiences.
You’ve pretty much gotten the picture that I don’t like going to the special class. But back to the original reason that I was “supposed” to be there, my Sliding Doors moment, was that the major topic of the day was, "Why do the pressures of adolescence affect women stronger than men?" Or, to be specific, girls more so than boys.
Go figure I start a blog with weight and said issues being important, and see what the special class offers me. I can play with this.
So, why DO the pressures of adolescence affect women stronger than men? Very simply, we want to be what we see. We believe men want us to be what they see (and they often do), and also, we’re suckers for marketing.
Don’t shake your head, love. When’s the last time you heard a man say, “I’d DIE for Arnold’s arms,” or, “I just LOVE Keanu’s jacket.” Meh. If he’s straight, it’s not happening.
I don’t know where our path of wrong-ness begins, but I do know that it starts young. Pretty much everything that screw us up starts young, no? Some blame Barbie, others blame the Fisher Price toy kitchen set, feminists blame it all.
I can’t figure out who to blame, so I’m going to sleep on it. Stay tuned tomorrow, same fat time, same fat channel.
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