Random musing, compliments of moi

If you've ever been one to interrupt someone with, "whoa, whoa. TMI!" you and I were probably not meant to be friends. The way I see it, there's no such thing as "too much information." If someone shares something with me, even if it makes me cringe a little (very hard to do), I figure she just needed to get it off her chest, or at least felt close enough with me to share. So I take it as a compliment. And I'm usually thrilled. Because that means it's no holds barred as to what I'm allowed to share.

This is my general rule of thumb. Well, except for one TMI intervention my sister, Meradith, and I had to have with our other sister, Bethany, who, in what can only be described as a fit of turrets, would describe in great detail the presents she would find in her little boy's diaper. It was always the same. We'd be chatting on the phone, she'd mention he was stank, and in a matter of seconds I'd hear, "OH.MY.GOSH....." and the description would begin. The size, amount, color, and texture. And exactly where it was encased. After several appalled discussions about our sister's rank tendency, Meradith and I had to draw the line and threaten her with an impeachment from the sister's club. "Bethany, we need to talk to you about something that has been detrimental to our sisterhood. What you do with this information is up to you, but you have been warned of the consequences." She was exasperated and yelled, "WHAAAAT!? You witches!" We really can't blame her, after three girls, she finally had a boy and just didn't know quite how to handle the surprises that awaited her during each diaper unveiling. Poor little lamb. You may think this story itself is too much information, but if so, again, we probably shouldn't be friends. Oh, and sorry for outing you so publicly, Bethany. You really have come such a long way in regard to your poo fascination.

Those of you who know me well already know this about me. Which means I probably know more than I should about your husband. Or your menstrual cycle. Or whatever. Because, honestly, the things we probably shouldn't talk about are usually the things we really want to talk about.

You probably think this is all some grand build-up to me spewing a bunch of "too much information" on this blog. But no. I don't have anything spicy to share at the moment. I was simply eavesdropping on two ladies chatting in the mailroom today and one of them cut the other off with a snappy, "Whoa! TMI!" and it annoyed me so badly, especially because I could see how stupid it made the girl feel, that I've been stewing about it ever since. And I nearly B-slapped that lady for making her friend feel embarrassed.

I guess I have one little thing I could share before I go, that, if you're a real prude, I guess could be considered TMI. But you'll probably just think it's funny. Leah, who is a late talker, had the greenest poop I've ever seen this morning! Just kidding. Totally kidding. What I wanted to tell you is she's decided that her favorite word, nay, the ONLY word she says with any amount of regularity is the word our family uses for her little girl parts. She says it all day long, dancing around and pointing to the front of her diaper. I'm delighted. Next we're gonna really work with her on the F word.

Moral of the story: if you need a safe place to say something inappropriate, I won't be judgy. Oh, and don't hang out with people who make you feel stupid for things you want to share. Oh, and share more of your juicy secrets with me.