Rings and Surthings

I had the weirdest conversation with The Princess*, my new sister-in-law, when she was in town for my husband's birthday. It's taken me this long to write about because I just wasn't sure how to process it. Translation: I don't know her well enough to know if she was deliberately being rude or if she is just really clueless. I'm erring on the side of clueless, though deliberately rude is a definite possibility.

Anyway, she and my brother-in-law have been married less than a year. I generally hate talking to newlyweds, for a lot of reasons**, and she hit two of them in less than five minutes:

Why don't you guys wear wedding rings? Don't you want people to know you're married?

Why didn't you change your last name? Is this some kind of feminist thing?

So, here's my reply to those questions, feel free to borrow whatever is applicable to you any time you'd like.

1. Wedding rings:

Does anybody even know what the point of wedding rings is, anyway? I guess to show people I'm married, but why does every random stranger need to know my marital status? An unmarried person could buy a wedding ring. It's not like jewelry stores require proof of marriage. A married person with a wedding ring could simply take it off. And I'm still not sure why everyone I meet needs to know whether or not I'm married.

I've been told that my husband will cheat on me if I don't require him to wear a wedding ring. I told them I had no idea circles of metal had such amazing powers.

I've been told our refusal to wear wedding rings means we're not serious about one another. I've been known to say "fuck off". Seriously, seriously fuck off. We've stuck together through both of our chronic illnesses, poverty, and other stuff I don't talk about here, and you're telling me that the ring is what denotes serious commitment? C'mere, I wanna show you something. It won't hurt for long.

So why don't we wear wedding rings? Neither one of us likes the tactile sensation of rings. My husband won't wear any jewelry at all, not even a watch. I regularly wear earrings, bracelets, and necklaces (I'm actually rarely without all three), but rings bother me. I can't really see how "Hey, I know wearing a ring makes you wildly uncomfortable, but you must wear one every day for the rest of your life" means love.

2. Taking my husband's surname.

This is not a feminist thing. Well, actually, some feminists do promote this as a feminist thing, but it has nothing to do with feminism for me. I'd like to say it does. I'd like to claim to be a feminist warrior, changing the world through my bold refusal to change my name, but Hell is all about the honesty***.

I didn't change my last name because I didn't really care about it and I'm lazy about things I don't care about. Actually, thinking about it, I had just spent a very frustrating six weeks getting a new social security card so I could switch jobs and the thought of doing that all over again to change my name was just too much at the time, so I put it off. After a few years went by, I asked my husband if he cared that I didn't use his name and he said, quite reasonably, that while I was welcome to use his name, he didn't see why I should. I didn't become a different person when I married him, why should I have a different name? And, it bothers him to see men stay Mr. John Doe, but women become Mrs. John Doe as if she had to marry John Doe because her parents named her Mrs. John Doe. What if she wanted to marry Frank Doe? It would be tragic!

Yeah, he's as weird as I am.

I've been told that this means I don't love him. I've been told this means he'll leave me, cheat on me, be heartbroken. I've been told feminists are ridiculous, that I hate men and that I'm a bad wife.

People seriously froth at the mouth about this one, more so than the rings.

Multiple people have suggested a "compromise" as if we were fighting about it: hyphenate our names. First of all, this always means I change my name to the hyphenate and he does nothing. Secondly, I have a four syllable Scots/Irish name and he has a three syllable Italian name. Can you imagine?

Mrs. Faith O'Hannigan-Agnoli****.

That's better than Faith O'Hannigan?

People often ask what name our children (will) have. My husband agrees that in the highly unlikely event that we do have a child, they will have my name because I'll be the one doing all the work. This upsets people so much that I've suggested we simply combine our names into one unhyphenated, bizarre Iritalian mix. O'Hannoli, perhaps. Nobody finds that funny, other than my husband.

Anyway, I really want to know why are either of these things anyone else's business? Why does anyone at all care whether or not we wear wedding rings or whether or not I change my name? I have asked people that, but apparently, I'm the rude one for asking.



*No, I really don't like her all that much.

**Hey, you're happy, good for you. Stop pretending you know anything about marriage. Call me back in ten years and then we'll talk all about it.

***Carefully edited honesty.

****Not our real names. Our real names would be even worse. And longer. Much longer.

The Weather, What's Wrong With That?

unrelated, but amusing.

Cynical Nymph's latest post made me think of a similar experience I had recently concerning other people's bodies as topics of conversation.

A coworker asked me, in envious tones, how I "stay so thin".

I hate that question. The truth is, I'm so thin because I'm so sick. I'm not stupid or unaware enough to claim that my thinness doesn't please me in that it conforms to a really fucked up standard of beauty in our culture, but I hate what it represents: sickness. See my collarbones? That's disease. My tiny waist? Pain. My slim thighs? Increasing disability.

Yes, I have a seriously warped relationship with my body. And I'd trade all that societally acceptable thin for a body of any shape that worked and wasn't in pain.

I hate that question, also, because it's rude. My body is not a topic for conversation, or it shouldn't be. Would you ask me about my sex life? How about the results of my latest blood test? Sure, "you're thin" is the ultimate compliment in our society, and nothing one should mention. My body isn't here for you to talk about, to please you, nor to provide you with conversation.

Total strangers will ask me about my body. It's bizarre, and like CN, forces me to confront something I don't like to confront. In her case, it's her eating disorder, in mine it's my illness. I don't want to deal with it, and I certainly don't want to get into it with a stranger.

Bodies are never, ever neutral topics of conversation. Stick with the weather next time.

Oh, I told my coworker I am thin because I am sick. It made her uncomfortable, which wasn't my intent. She really is nice and I have to work with her. So I don't know what to tell you to say in response to that sort of question.

I Know You're Trying to be Nice . . .

I know this guy online (possible band name alert) who is disabled. He was in a car accident years ago and after much physical therapy he is able to walk, climb stairs, etc. He does not do any of these activities easily, or quickly, but he does them.

Three times this week people have, without permission or even warning, grabbed him while he was climbing stairs in order to "help" him. Each time, when he loudly informed them that it was not acceptable to touch him and that he didn't need their help, they became offended and offered "I was just trying to help . . ." as an excuse. As if he were the rude one*.

I wouldn't think it would be necessary to say this, but touching people without their permission is assault and battery. It's a freakin' crime, people. I'm sorry some of us aren't fast enough or graceful enough for you, but that's your fucking problem, not ours. I'm sorry I'm ruining your day with my slow climb up the stairs, but just wait, okay?

Honestly.

*I know, the disabled are expected to be unfailingly, unflappably pleasant at all times. I'm sorry, but Forrest Gump is not a documentary. Possibly the worst movie I've ever seen, but not a documentary.

Just Because You Can Do Something . . .

pc, rude, asshat, christian,

PC = Totalitarianism



The evil of "political correctness" – the totalitarian manipulation of thought, foisted on us by twisted elitist sociopaths who hate America and everything our soldiers have fought and died for over the last two centuries, and continue to fight and die for – has to end. Now. It's over. This nation must rise up and defy the insane thought control that is destroying our country right before our eyes.

You know what the insanity is here? That Gretchen, the author of this post, thinks that the right of various groups to define themselves, and to demand that others stop using derogatory language towards them, is "insane", "twisted", "sociopath[ic]" and an insult to dead soldiers. (I'm guessing that's a Veteran's Day tie in?)



Let me explain something to you, Gretchen. You have the right to hate whomever you please. You also have to right to use whatever disgusting, bigoted language you wish. The First Amendment does indeed guarantee your right to be an asshole.



However, I have a right to react to what you say, and add my own opinion to the mix. So, when you refer to blacks as "ni**ers", women as "c*nts" and those with Down's as "damn retards", I have the right to call you a racist, misogynist waste of flesh who should have been drowned at birth.



I am guessing, however, that Gretchen has no desire to call blacks "ni**gers" or insult those with Trisomy 21. My guess is that she's pissed that when she calls people "f*gs" and "towel heads" other people say, "What is wrong with you?!" and stop inviting her to lunch. How dare they? She has First Amendment rights to be a complete asshole, we don't have First Amendment rights to react to it- no, wait, we do.



Asshat.



What really bothers me about this is the utter rudeness of it all. If a wheelchair user asks you to stop referring to them as "confined to a wheelchair", simple etiquette demands that you respect their wishes, even if you don't understand the sentiment behind the request. I know, I know, being "PC" requires one to be thoughtful and carefully consider one's words, motivations and understandings of the world and the people who occupy it, but is it really too much to ask that we extend a little empathy to our fellow humans? Really?



(Note: Yes, I do understand that this can get a little ridiculous. For some reason, I have morphed from a secretary to an assistant, which is just silly, but I'll take it if it means people start holding their tongues a little before speaking.)

Secretaries and Other People Who Answer the Phone

I'm going to share with you my pet peeves about the way people abuse secretaries and other people who answer the phone (staffers, customer service representatives, receptionists, etc.)

First and foremost, I have no control over what my boss does, doesn't do, says, doesn't say, where he goes, or what phone calls, letters or other communications he responds to or ignores. None. Yes, he got your message/letter/fax/email. If he chose not to respond to it, yelling at me isn't going to change anything. If he responded in a way that you don't like, I can't do anything about it. Stop yelling at me. I just work here.

I talk to dozens of people every day. I do not recognize all of their voices. I don't know what your relationship is like with my boss. So stop getting pissy when I don't recognize your voice or know that you go golfing with my boss twice a week. When you're golfing, I'm here answering phones.

My boss does not have your number memorized. I do not have your number memorized. I take down dozens of numbers every day. If you want a call back, just give me the damn number.

Making the same request in different words doesn't change the answer. I don't keep my boss' calendar. If you want to make an appointment, you'll have to talk to him. Asking me if I "think" he "might" be available at a certain date and time won't magically give me knowledge of his calendar.

If I tell you that my boss is on the phone, not at his desk, or not in the building, you can't talk to him. Either what I said to you is true, or it's what he told me to tell you, but either way, he's not talking to you. At that point, it's not helpful to say things like, "but I was just talking to him". Well, you're not now.

Yes, I do know my boss' cell phone number, but if I give it to you, I will be fired. You will need a gun, some barbed wire and a mesh cage filled with tarantulas to get it out of me.



Just as a reminder, secretaries and other people who answer the phone work very hard for relatively little money. Abusing them is like kicking puppies or punching babies- they can't fight back, they just have to sit there and take it. So stop it.