Monday, June 20, 2011

Open Letter Mondays

An Open Letter to the Lululemon's Bag

Dear Lululemon's bag,

I see that you are exhorting me to "do one thing a day that scares me."

I find this confusing.

It is our great First World privilege to live without fear. I think the rest of the world, if told to do the same thing, would look at you like you had three heads. Only someone who has not ever lived with pervading, ever-present fear would say something this inane.

And furthermore, what sort of things are you thinking about? If I tried doing something every day that scares me, it would be one of these:

1. Having a metaphysical conversation with a three-year-old. You know the kind, where they ask some huge yet perfectly logical question, and then everybody is like oh hah hah that's so cute, and the kid is all, no, I mean it, answer my question. Sort of like this:

Three Year Old: Where does the wind come from?
Me: Oh. Hahah. What a good question.
Three Year Old: No. Seriously. Why?
Me: frantically trying to remember something, anything, from my last science class in eighth grade, in which I spent most of my time discussing Star Wars with the impressively mustachioed teacher. Um. Air currents? Differential temperatures? Some sort of celestial vapor agitation?
Three Year Old: looks skeptical
Me: Birds pant a lot when they fly, I think. You want to get ice cream?

2. Touch, see, kill, or otherwise be in the same room with a bug. Last weekend one of those horrible camel crickets got into the washing machine when I was doing laundry, and even though after the hot cycle this was the deadest and the cleanest cricket in Christendom - seriously, this cricket was clean - there was no way in hell I would even dispose of the corpse, not even through industrial strength paper towels, and instead had to call my long-suffering Life Partner in to get rid of it, even though he gets these frantic pleas from me at least three or four times a weekend to deal with some kind of bug or other than is disrupting the very fabric of my universe by daring to be in the same room with me.

3. Be exposed to the sun, even for a minute, without sunblock and a hat and/or umbrella between me and its Evil Hate Rays of Death.

4. Look closely at my feet.

Although I appreciate you reminding me to breathe deeply. I was just wondering why everything had gone all black and sparkly in here, then realized I'd forgotten to exhale, so thanks, Lululemon bag.

I know you probably get suggestions like this all the time, but you should think about adding some new phrases to your repertoire. Right now you're a very weird mix of pantiliner inspirational - drink water! You can play sports! Ignore your creeping mortality! and perverted Zen koanster. Seriously, children are the orgasm of the universe? If that phrase were a person, it would be on the sex offender registry. How about those $70 dollar yoga pants should really make you feel guilty or Do downward dog to deal with the crushing soullessness of your postmodern existence.

Or just, do one thing every day that scares you, unless you are living 1) in a warzone 2) on a pile of technological waste 3) in a dump and are 1) facing starvation or 2) an early death from unsafe drinking water and/or lead contamination or 3) a hostile government trying to forcibly resettle you because of your nationality, ethnicity, language, or religion. In that case, you get a pass.

Thanks for taking the time to listen, Lululemon bag.

Deeply breathing,
Me

No comments:

Post a Comment