While this may sound hypocritical from someone who writes about her own life on the internet, I do not care for over-sharing. I don’t like bathroom humor (at ALL, unless it is so funny and so clever). I don’t feel comfortable knowing the ins and outs of my coworker’s marriages and relationships. Full disclosure: I am always interested in bawdy gossip, though I never understand the inclination to share it when it concerns oneself. But the over-share which always makes me the most uncomfortable comes from pregnant ladies.
I’ve worked in a couple of offices with pregnant ladies. I read celebrity gossip blogs like I’m studying for a quiz in the downfall of American Society. I’m also on a little thing called “Facebook”. I have been exposed to a lot of pregnant women who are not among my intimate friends. And yet, I know about their amniotic fluid. I know about their bladder concerns. I know whether or not their children were accidents and what positions their children currently occupy in their bodies and what their sex lives are with their husbands now that the gift of life is inside of them. I do not want to know these things.
I appreciate that a joyous event like a child coming into the world should prompt celebration. It’s a huge deal for your family; it changes your life forever. I congratulate you from the bottom of my heart. But a three week old sonogram picture doesn’t belong on Facebook. I think offering to show me your Caesarian scar from your first kid in the copy room is taking it a little far. And talking about the consistency of your placenta when I’m trying to enjoy a salad at my desk is not appreciated.
I blame pop culture for this. Snookie gets paid to talk about cravings and gas and s-e-x in Life & Style. Miranda was hilariously candid on Sex and the City in talking about her pregnancy issues. There’s always some lady on a sitcom throwing out sassy one-liners about how this kid is taking everything from her before it’s even born. These people do not live in reality. They are characters. Even Snookie. Especially Snookie.
I am sure it’s a lot of work to carry another person around inside of you; especially a squirmy, growing little person who wants to kick all your internal organs for nine months. But, unless you are Jessica Simpson, who can sell her over-shares as profitable sound bites to magazines, dialing back the constant prenatal updates to casual acquaintances and co-workers will ensure that you don’t have to spend the last few months of your pregnancy eating lunch alone.