Happy Friday, Wifers!
I’m writing this in a car with CH, headed east for a wedding - you know, the one I ordered from Rent the Runway. I’ll talk about that on Monday, but here’s a teaser - RTR texted yesterday to let me know they don’t have the dress I ordered. All the swears.
But it will be a fun wedding and I’ll get to see people I love, and who doesn’t love a slovenly dressed person at a wedding to make everyone else feel well-dressed? I’m a giver, people.
Let’s talk about whoring, the action of.
What does it mean to be a whore? I know you’ll be disappointed to hear that I’m not talking about what you think I’m talking about. According to Webster’s, one of my favorite sites on the internet, the non-sexual definition of whore is thus:
: a mercenary or unscrupulous person : a person who is willing to compromise their integrity or principles for personal gain or in pursuit of something. “Others regarded him as a hack—a literary whore.”
: a person who gets an unusual amount of pleasure from or has an unusual amount of interest in something : “an attention whore” or “publicity whores”.
Am I whore? I guess I am.
Many people, perhaps most, aren’t interested in sharing personal details about themselves to strangers on the internet. And other than my mom and a handful of her friends, many people don’t like to ready about it either, LOL. I’d like to think I’m not in the unscrupulous category, but I’m not saying that’s never the case. (wink.)
I’m definitely more in the “attention whore” bed, but it’s because I love frank discussions and getting to core truths - this is less about philosophy and more about “c’mon you guys, you know we all have gas.” Whoring myself out, to me, is baring, sharing and caring. And maybe being a little daring. Quit staring.
I think we can all learn from each other - this is like the OG human version of AI. The gathering and sharing of information collectively can help us to all be better. When I shared my cancer experience and recommend the 3D mammogram (and still do) I had a lot of women reach out who either had cancer or were in the middle of some questionable diagnosis and wanted advice. They learned from me, I learned from them. Isn’t that what it’s all about? I’ve had a couple of people reach out to me privately about hiatal hernias and Voquenza. Who knew?
Let’s go back 20 years.
Oh my gosh, you guys, I was 37. Give me a moment.
I loved making hamburgers and fries and malts for dinner and there were few consequences from an acid and an ass-size perspective. I could carry heavy things and not notice how many times I walked up and down stairs. I remembered the specific word I wanted to use like 99% of the time. I drank Smirnoff Green Apples and read the Harry Potter, Twilight and Hunger Games series.
What a time to be alive!
When I started my mom-blog in 2007, it was a more innocent activity. Moms wrote nice little stories about the challenges they faced and there was more of a, “We’re all in this together, you’re doing great!” mentality. I still have a number of friends from that time who are still technically strangers on the internet.
But then social media became more prevalent and things changed. The mom-bloggers started trying to look “perfect” and got more judgy about how other people parented. Curated posts versus authentic posts. Trad wives warred with Job moms, vaccine moms warred with non-vaxers, Lunchables moms warred with pureed-vegetables-in-cookie moms. Plus, all of the moms who blogged about their families (including this one) realized that the internet is forever and maybe not everyone wants to be so public. Thus, the untimely death of ADITW.
But you’re back, you hypocrite.
Yeah. And the blogger/content creator realm has changed. YOU GUYS. There are legit whores out there, and in the Only Fans way. If they don’t have an Only Fans, they say things like “Just out here to get my little piece of the Internet!” When I browse around on Facebook, I see this crazy pattern of people with pages, mostly folks who I think are in it for the monetization. Here’s the formula:
They have a name like “Sunshine Kathy” or “Jenna Loves Coffee.”
They all have around 15K followers, which is a real head-scratcher for me. Are they bots? Maybe.
They take a selfie in the morning with their coffee and a post like, “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee!”
They make a post in the afternoon that says, “It’s only (insert day here)!?!? I’m never going to make it!”
They make a night post that says, “Gotta have my wine!” (Or dog! Or chocolate!) and tell their followers, “Goodnight, Besties!”
I REALLY don’t want to be a Blogging Zombie.
They’re all exactly the same and super cliche. I know they’re following the formula to monetize, and that’s okay. You do you, Sunshine Kathy.
I’m not blogging for the money (although I certainly wouldn’t turn down a bag of it to write!) and I don’t want to be eye-rollingly cliche. And I don’t want to start an Only Fans page for people who are into post-menopausal women with a flesh apron around their midsection (It’s a real thing, look it up.)
So, there you have it. I yam a whore, but hopefully in the best possible Popeye way? Thanks for being here, Wifers, flesh aprons and face fur and acid reflux and abdominal gas. I love you for it.
But not in an Only Fans way. Boundaries, people.
Happy Weekend, Gentle Wifers.