Into everyone's life a little information must fall. When you are a later teen/early twenties the information sharing is about who you're currently sleeping with and how he/she measures up to expectation and past lovers. This can be a bit creepy because if you're like me, a visual learner, you get pictures flashing through your mind with people you know having sex. This can also be a turn on, if that type of thing turns your crank.
Once you hit your reproductive years, (the ones where you WANT to get knocked up, not the ones were you bargain with God that if you're not you'll do whatever he/she desires), the sharing of birthing babies enters the scene. This can also be gross if you have a friend who's particularly graphic in their description, had a traumatic or long labour/birth, or if you don't want to think about your bff's vag or perineum in any detail.
Then you move onto parenthood where nothing is sacred. Poop, pee, puke, infected circumcision sites, scrapes, broken bones, explaining the birds and the bees, getting caught in the act, it's a free for all. Usually you can distance yourself enough that it's not too skeevy, or commiserate because you have gone through almost the same experience.
Then there's the informer. You know, the one person (usually not a friend, but a neighbour or co-worker), who continuously over shares personal information.
I have several such people in my life, but one continues to outdo themselves. Usually I just shake my head like a wet dog, sigh and then look to my compatriot who also shakes her head and gives up.
Today, however, a line has been crossed.
When you are experiencing a medical issue, you should probably let people around you know so that if something were to happen to you, they wouldn't be caught to off guard. Epilepsy, hemophilia, spontaneous combustion, those are all appropriate information to share with your workplace. If you've started a new drug that could cause side effects that might warrant a trip to the hospital, also points to share.
Telling me that you've got a doctor's appointment because every time you shit, your asshole bleeds, none of my business. Seriously!!! All you need to say is "Hey, I've got a doctor's appointment today and __________ is going to switch shifts with me." Done. Settled. Finito.
I don't care that you're bleeding out of your hoop unless it's going to cause me hours of paperwork or a WSIB claim form. There's no box to tick for anal bleeding on a WSIB form, I looked. I don't even know what category it would fall under, other than injury not done at work.
http://www.wsib.on.ca/files/Content/Downloadable%20FileReport%20of%20Injury%20Form%207/Form7.pdf
Now I've got a mental image in my head of her bleeding every time she craps. Did I need this? Oh no I did not. Why she would feel the need to share something so intimately personal when it had no bearing on anything at all boggles my mind. I wouldn't have said no or questioned the timing of the appointment. If the work is being covered and there will be no disruption in the day, I DON'T CARE!!!! STOP TELLING ME THIS TYPE OF PERSONAL STUFF!
It's not making me a better person, seriously. I'm not keen on this individual anyways (not that she'd ever pick up on this fact since she's too dense to pick up on the interpersonal clues and snide comments that slip out occasionally).
Now of course the evil Mel has taken over and I'm (independently) coming up with reasons this might be happening, none of them nice nor likely.
Reason one: She's crazy (okay, this one is likely).
Reason two: Trying anal sex for the first time in your mid-forties is just a bad idea. Your butt will be super tight and dry due to age and so of course any inroads are going to cause bleeding and discomfort. This one has visuals to go along with it which make me nauseous and want to lie down in the dark.
Reason three: Stop sticking things up your ass!
Reason four: Even her tapeworm has had enough and wants out.
Reason five: Fiber, baby Fiber!
People, think about how much information is being shared when you speak. Stop giving too much when the minimum is adequate. Don't elaborate, embellish or fish for sympathy. Just say it in the simplest terms possible.
Thanks for not sharing,
Mel
Of course I realize the irony of this posting is, in fact, TMI, but if you didn't have the catalyst story to accompany my reasoning behind my position of TMI, then the full scope of my frustration and disgust would be poorly explained.
That said, I promise not to over-share in the future.
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