How to Tell if I’m Writing About You

1. Have you written a really great book? How about a book that I hated? Have we read the same book and discussed it at book club? Or discussed it online? If so, I’m probably writing about you.

Credit: Goodreads.com

2. Have you said something totally weird, like when my friend Rachael blogged about her challenges trusting in Jesus when she has difficulty sustaining her family — and some anonymous commenter replied, “It could be worse — Jesus could let you get raped on your way to your vehicle.” Yeah. That definitely would be worse… and a lot more wtf-worthy. That’s the thing about Jesus: you’re either the working-poor or you’re sexually assaulted. Now, where can I sign up to get baptized?!?!?! I’m probably writing about you.

3. Have you done something stupid, rude or hilarious-yet-mildly-offensive? Like the Real Estate agent who I’m filing a complaint against with the North Carolina Board of Real Estate Agents for large-family prejudice? Did you make a giant paper-mâché cow to show your support for fighting cancer? Or refuse to refund my money after the fish you guaranteed actually dies, necessitating me to mail said dead fish back to you? Are you (non-offensively) trying to raise money for a good cause? I’m definitely writing about you.

4. Are you involved in any of the following: birth work, postpartum work, prenatal work, breastfeeding — have you nursed in public? Have you nursed MY BABY in public? Have you donated breastmilk, consumed breastmilk or cried over spilt breastmilk? Have you seen my breasts? (Jugs say they’re both attractive AND functional!) Have you worked with a midwife, doula or acupuncturist? Have you gestated? Are you currently gestating? Have I attended your birth — either in person or via iPhone FaceTime? I might be talking about you. But without violating HIPAA.

5. If you’re one of my animals, I’m definitely talking about you.

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2 Responses

  1. OH MY GOSH. I love you.

  2. I wish I were a gerbil. Then you’d write about me and I’d be a FAMOUS GERBIL.

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