Hypocrisy 101
So I think I mentioned that the sixth graders are following me on Instagram. And while I love it, because it allows me to keep tabs on them, it's forcing me to pause and process (then filter) every time I go to put up a picture, or a quote, or a meme.
In theory, this is what responsible adults do. Except that I had this very argument with my husband last year when I said, "I do not write for children. They shouldn't be following me. I will not filter myself."
Rest assured, I'm not Andrew Dice Clay. But, if there's one fucking thing I hate more than any other fucking thing, it's hypocrisy.
And I'm a big fat fucking hypocrite.
In my weak and meager defense, when I said I wouldn't alter my ways, I wasn't trying to fit into my eleven year old's world. He was still in elementary school, and he wasn't swimming in a sea of cell signals and selfies. And he's not really the one doing it now, seeing as how we got him a burner phone with a slide out keyboard. No internet. No apps.
It's that every one of his friends has the fancy phone, the Instagram account, the Kik account...they follow me, and I selectively (after checking with the kid) follow them back.
So now, I feel obligated to NOT be my regular potty mouthed self. At least not on Instagram. The good news is that the sixth graders are too young or too cool for Facebook, they're not hip to my Twitter and God-willing, they're not reading the blog.
Which is why, this just might turn into a my safe house. A secret, underground network for swearing. A giant, profanity laced F-Word Fest. Oh man, I'm still doing it. FUCK!