Killing time, because Jesus died for our vacations.

I’m kind of procrastinating at work right now. Well, what does procrastinating mean? It means carrying out less urgent tasks in order to avoid larger, more pressing ones. So no, I’m not procrastinating. I’ve done my work and I’m just waiting until we get the all clear to haul ass and begin this Easter weekend. It’s been a hectic week of extra workload in order to take care of the two days we’ll be missing. Promos still need to be scheduled, regardless of whether or not we’ll be here to do it. If I had something left to do, I’d be doing that. Clearly by virtue of doing this, I don’t.

It’s better I do this than skulk around searching for sweet things to eat. Seriously, it’s a minefield of chocolatey doom around the office. In the kitchen there are gourmet donuts and mini chocolate eggs. We have a candy bowl stocked in our pod. One of our supervisors came around with bars of chocolate he’d bought from his kid’s fundraiser. One of the strategy team member came around with shortbread bunnies for everyone. The icing (or chocolate) on this whole treat is a team member baking cookies with Cadbury mini eggs in lieu of chocolate chips. They’re amazing, crunchy on the outside but soft on the inside. It’s like the ever-popular M&M’s cookies just got a massive level up. If excess was a thing, we would’ve reached it back at the donuts. This is just overkill. Suffice to say I’m loving every second. My belly will have to contend with it when I get to the gym later. It’ll be like training with a weighted vest on my stomach.

There’s a weird kind of stillness around the office. The publicity interns have taken off and with them so too has the aggressively self-effacing banter about body image. Seriously, it kind of sucks to listen to a refrain of how terrible think they look, how much they have to lose weight and can’t wear certain things. I could go on a massive diatribe about how society has instilled us all with regressive body shame and unhealthy self-image, but I wouldn’t be breaking any new ground and there are infinitely better media streams available to that content from. So maybe instead I’ll just say to them here what I’d like to say in person, but don’t want to risk them feeling even more self-conscious in knowing someone else can hear them. Here goes…

I don’t want to take away from how you want to look or feel. The principle of “you do you” comes into play. You should be happy and if obsessing about how bad you think you look does that for you, then don’t let me stop you. The thing is, it doesn’t sound like it brings you a ton of joy. You couldn’t be older than 21, but you’re talking about how you can’t wear costumes like you used to. Since when does being 21 prohibit you from dressing as you like? Wear whatever superhero outfit you were complaining wouldn’t look good on your frame because it’s awesome. None of you have anything to worry about. You look healthy and any “problems” you’re so worried about seem more indicative of the image driven publicity scene you’re a part of. As a glutton, it breaks my heart to hear you worry about what a couple of pieces of candy could do to you. “Oh, I couldn’t” you say, as if it’s expected of you to be a martyr for your art. You’re writing advertorials, since when is that not conducive to caring about yourself? You could have one, a treat every now and again is hardly gonna be detrimental to your future. You’re young and you’re supposed to be enjoying yourself. You’re interns, life is gonna shit on you whatever you do. Find happiness when you can. You have no need to despair over insubstantial crap like this. Just stop beating yourself up, the world will try and do that for you. Be on your team, somebody needs to.

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3 responses to “Killing time, because Jesus died for our vacations.

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