the smell of my desperation has become a stench



Yesterday I returned from four days in hot? and sunny? Portland, OR, where I spoke at XOXO Fest. First, can we talk about that weather, PORTLAND? Don’t seduce me like that ever again. I feel used and manipulated. Serious thoughts kept interrupting phrases and sentences coming out of my mouth, thoughts that resembled this: “I would love to live here!” With the fucking exclamation point. NO. NUH-UH. ZERO YESES.

I have never been to Portland when it has been so beautiful, and suddenly the puzzle pieces all fell into place and I felt super gross. Because I GOT IT. No. I do not want to get it. Give me always hot and sunny LA where everyone is like, “Really? You’re vegan and militant? I’m happy for you. Genuinely happy. And now I’m going to walk my dog down to the deli and order a BLT because I need to be to work by at least noon. Good luck on your project!”

I opened the conference with my talk on Saturday. No pressure. None at all. And after some initial panic the organizers (Hi, Andys!) let me go with the talk I’d prepared, so you may have heard a word or two about hairy vaginas. No? Well then, let this earworm bore through your skull:

Yep! Aren’t you proud, Mom?

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Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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