Hail to the Clueless! (Tuesday)

(Start with "Monday" if you can. You'll need the entire 5 day effect to truly appreciate all the things I'm clueless about and all the clueless people I know) So, what were we talking about? Oh right. I alluded to the fact yesterday that I never really agonized over people who didn't understand my infertility or what I was going through. I was used to it.

Ask anybody who's in the Arts. If you can, ask somebody who's in the Arts whose parents were raised by immigrant parents during the Depression.    

My parents were not about dreams or guts or happiness. They were about security. I started writing and performing at a very young age. To them it was like I had said: "Hi I'm Lori. I'm going to starve for the next hundred years of my life. Are you with me on this?"

For my first thirty years of life, my uncle kept a job application for the post office in his back pocket hoping one day I'd agree to fill it out.

He either had only one pair of pants,  or an application in each pair.   

To this day, few of my relatives, young or old, get it.  I don't even discuss it much with them anymore.

If you can't be excited for me...oh well...we'll talk about what we have in common and then when I need to share some big writing news, I'll seek out some DNA closer to my own, if not genetically.

Okay, so yesterday I mentioned a woman (Here's a memory jog: I referred to her as "an idiot" then I upgraded her to simply "clueless") who wrote a comment in a discussion about what to say and not to say to people dealing with infertility.

She couldn't  understand why people going through infertility have trouble having a "whoo hoo!" moment for their pregnant friends. Here was her contribution such as it is:

"This seems to be the no no area but I'm going there. When my friends are happy I'm happy for them. When they are sad I rally around them like a big warm blanket. I would be deeply hurt if any of my friends were anything but happy for me at the exciting news of any of my four pregnancies. If any of them stooped so low as to take their pain out on me I would show them the door..."

Well that's the gist. Let's analyze this shall we?: 

1) Don't you just love adults using words like "no-no" to other adults?

2) I've never seen a blanket rally...but okay I'll play along.

3) Four pregnancies...Has to give us a little dig there.

4) "If any of them stooped so low to take their pain out on me"

Obviously this woman is not Jewish. Our relationships rely heavily on us taking our pain out on one another.  

The wind-up is: She doesn't get it. A bunch of women wrote comments trying to get her to get it but she just won't. Her icon is a cup of coffee. It's definitely not decaf. 

Maybe those women didn't try the right approach. Let's say instead of infertility, we, her best chums, all had breast cancer. (Gd forbid)

So here we all are, going through chemo and contemplating mastectomies and this java lady just had a boob job.

She is so proud of her new look and hates our selfish guts for not putting on low-cut spandex and going out to the hoochy-mama club with her to celebrate.

Maybe that would stir her cup.

Listen, I gotta go. I just reminded myself. My middle-age boobs are sagging. I have to find somewhere private where I can grab hold of my bra straps and hoist them up like venetian blinds.

If you can, check out Ellen Glazer's post: "Stress Causes Fertility" featured this week in "Health Experts"   http://laughingisconceivable.com/?page_id=642

I'll talk to ya again tomorrow.