It's Me!, and I'm making a Mini Me!

Watch my Show, I'm a Star

I’m not sure what source to blame, perhaps it is some “perfect storm” of modern American life, but we have bred the most self-absorbed generation in the history of mankind.

It borders on the ridiculous.

I want to scream “get over yourself”, but it is just me, old, cranky, curmudgeon me, sitting here alone in the family room online. No one is here to hear my primal scream.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, screams self-absorbed, I mean not even a bikini selfie, like a gender reveal party. Holy Good God Almighty.

A party.

An entire planned display.

A choreographed reveal with explosions, pink or blue confetti, or colored dust, all to announce the gender of the new offspring.

Planning, expense, party favors, the creation of a sense of mystery, a grand event, invitations, a big gathering, food, drink, catering, all to reveal, the sex of the newborn.

Holy Shit.

You went to the doctor, you’ve had the ultrasound. You’ve either seen the little extension hanging from the fetus, or not. Tests have been run. Measurements of levels of estrogen have been taken, ways doctors can determine the sex of this little developing life.

All you have to do is just call me.

“Hello, oh a boy, congratulations, we will pray for a healthy mom and boy”. “Hello, a girl, how wonderful, prayers here for a healthy pregnancy, painless birth, and happy healthy bundle of joy”.

There is no need for a “show”.

You aren’t introducing a new, nine pound Michael Jackson, the kid isn’t going to break dance across your midsection and wow us all.

Get this. We all realize that you’ve become pregnant, are expecting, and have been blessed with a growing family. Congratulations. Very happy for you, children are just a blessing, a gift from God. Being a parent means everything, it is truly life’s holy calling. To raise a moral, decent, and productive person for our collective future.

We don’t need a “show”. No one needs a “show”. No one wants to be invited to a “Gender reveal party”. No one really cares.

Hey, I’ll let you in on a little secret. You know how self-absorbed you are, that you want to make a complete production of letting everyone know the sex of the birth of your future child? Well all those people being invited, are equally self-absorbed. They care about themselves as much as you care about yourself. About as much as you care about them, after all they are nothing but an audience for you and your production, you are but an audience to them. To a person if you gave them a pass not to actually have to come to the reveal party, they’d all stay home.

We don’t need a parade of photos showing what a fabulous “mommy body” you’ve managed to maintain. There are no extra points for taught abs as the belly protrudes. We don’t need those mirror selfies as one hand holds the camera, and the other envelopes your new protrusion. No extra points for gaining the least amount of possible weight and still be pregnant. Your lack of intake might in fact be harming the baby.

The world itself does not revolve around you. None of us leading our busy lives are sitting at home waiting with baited breath for the next glowing pregnancy photo, we can start our day out just fine absent six different photos of you posing your developing mid-section in full make-up and perfect hair, and expensive pregnancy outfit.

Listen up self-absorbed new mommy; there is no catwalk in your home.

Yes you are attractive, yes you and your husband qualify as the “Barbie and Ken” of your little group of friends. Of course we all realize that your “Ken” has a better job than all of your friends husbands, and that in any group photo of you and those other five women in your standard weekend group that you are the “star of the show”, all eyes seeing the photo move toward you, yes, indeed, you are photogenic. We know, you were a cheerleader. How wonderful. Oh sorry, head cheerleader.

That was high school. This is life. No one cares.

Selfies. Gender reveal parties. Tik Tok videos all day, every day. Your lunch, your dinner, your drinks out. Your beach. Your bikini, your car rant filmed as you sit in the driver’s seat of your new Range Rover, hair just right, make-up as if you just left the Macy’s counter.

We raised an entire generation of “look at me”. We raised an entire generation of “I am special”.

The plain Jane down the street you wouldn’t look at twice if you were an eligible male between the ages of twenty and thirty, is sending out selfies by the hour. Beach bikini here, brand name outfit there, hey look, I’m dining in Palm Beach!

We have raised an entire generation who truly believes there is an invisible paparazzi outside watching their every move. Guiding their own hand in creating a selfie. Look at my name brand watch, look at my high end handbag, look how great I look today, I know you are at work in that miserable cubicle, but here I am pouting at Starbucks because the barista didn’t make my mocha caramel flat white latte mochachino properly, feel bad for me.

And nowhere is this self-absorption more readily evident than the gender reveal party.

Did you know that in this age of emasculated men, of women dominating men more than ever before in the history of mankind, did you know that men going to a baby shower has become a “thing”?

Men.

Going to a baby shower.

Standing and watching women oooh, and aaah over the name brand stroller four college room mates pitched in to buy.

Men. Grown adult men.

Holy Good God. If I called my long deceased dad and told him, hey dad tomorrow we have to go to a baby shower, you included, he would look at me as if I had grown a second head.

Real men do not attend baby showers. I’m sorry, they don’t. And no amount of “involved in family” is going to convince me that this is a “new thing”.

No man ever uttered the words “I want to be there for the baby shower”. Or “ I just love the Ambrosia salad they are going to serve at this baby shower I am attending”.

I have no idea how this trend started, men attending baby showers, but someone has to stand up and kill this idea right freaking now. We are emasculating an entire generation.

I can tell you this.

Keep making men attend baby showers and there won’t be a need for one. You will have emasculated them and destroyed their manhood to the extent they can no longer impregnate a woman. Their testosterone down to the bare minimum.

Self absorbed American women are destroying America. Completely.

Men, stand up. Stand up for Christ’s sake.

When you hear the words “gender reveal party” you better damn straight say a resounding “No”.

And that better be final.

It was in my dad’s day.

It was in my day.

And if our species is to survive, it better become the final word in your day.

Enough is enough.