Monday, June 21, 2010

I don't like U

So, I was prepared to like U. the commercials are so different and clever with the message of how they actually understand that it's not a fun experience, and I relate to them more than those other kinds, given that I'm not the girliest of girls. Sure, I like candles and flowers, but most people don't see me in a skirt unless I have a job interview or a funeral to attend. And if I was wearing a skirt during that sort of week, it sure the hell wouldn't be white.

But it turns out that I don't like U. First, they smell kind of strange. Not in a perfumed sort of way, but more like an unmaintained beach bathroom way. Most women probably aren't going for smelling like a hobo, so I doubt I'm the only one who finds this off-putting. And second, while the packaging is definitely festive, neon colors lack discretion - I like keeping my coworkers guessing as to why I'm in a bitchy mood, and accidentally flashing one of those sort of ruins the mystery. And who's idea was it to put the blue bullseyes down the center of things? It strikes me as a little bit condescending.

Basically, in the effort to seem different, they have in fact embraced everything that they're railing against. Like the pigs in Animal Farm. Or, wait, more like those girls who come into threads about awful cramps, and are all, "Oh, I don't mind my period. It's only once every 45 days, and I use three tampons a day for three days. I never get any cramps, either. teehee. It must be awful for you." You know what? Screw you. No one wants to hear how easy you have it, and we're all secretly wishing menopause sucks twice as much for you as the rest of us. But you know, at least with those girls I can console myself by knowing that odds are that they're fatter than me, struggles with weight being another issue people get bent out of shape over when people make light of it, and can at least imagine snottily saying "Wow, the average woman wears a size twelve to fourteen and at my fattest ever I was a size ten and I hated it. It must be awful for you" and's a bunch of marketing execs who are probably men anyway, laughing their way to the bank because they tricked us. Assholes.

This rant brought to you by the letters P, M, and S.

"With my aching hand reach for you, burning skin bleed for you. Laugh at it all until you take the fall. My second sight see though you, second skin bleed for you..." - Carfax Abbey, Second Skin

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