Only Rude Jerks Expect Presents At Their Dumb Gender Reveal Parties
Iâ€™ve had to learn to accept that gender reveal parties are a real thing that people do, despite not really understanding the point. I will never accept, however, that people actually want gifts for these things.
Sure, knowing the sex of your child falls into the BFD category-at least, it did for me, but I was acutely aware that no one else really cared except for me, my husband, and his parents. People asked, of course, but it was a polite way to make conversation. I know this to be true because I told multiple people multiple times that I was having a girl, and then the next time they saw me they would ask again.
Since that time, Iâ€™ve been introduced to the world of gender reveals, politely attending more and more, each a little more elaborate and Pinterest-y than the last. I’ve sat quietly in my chair with something that is never alcohol at an event that should never not serve alcohol. Iâ€™ve casted ballots, been forced to choose blue cupcakes or pink cupcakes, and pretended to care when the proud parents sliced open a cake to reveal that-surprise!-their child had genitals of one kind or another. Iâ€™ve clapped, congratulated, and then abruptly forgotten all about their fetusâ€™ gonads on my way out the door.
Fine. Iâ€™ll do all of that and more as a show of support. What I wonâ€™t do is bring you a gift. You donâ€™t deserve a gift for making me choose either a mustache or a pair of lips to pin to my t-shirt. If anything, I deserve a gift for not ruining your carpet by stabbing a fork into my eye. But I digress.
Lots of people endure the charade of the gender reveal with the understanding that hey, at least you arenâ€™t expected to bring a gift.
This weekend, I stumbled upon a facebook rant about how rude it is to show up empty handed at a vagina or penis unveiling, and it caused me to plunge into a deep internet rabbit hole. No, I thought. This canâ€™t be a thing.
This is a thing.
First you have to order invitations that let everyone know that you want presents:
Of course, this raises the obvious question: how will my guests know not to get me gross yellow stuff?
Fortunately, there’s an easy solution:
suckers party guests to bring a receipt so you can trade the crap they brought you for cold hard cash or something less ugly.
Iâ€™m not into open letters, but Iâ€™m making an exception today because sometimes we must fight oblivious douchebaggery with oblivious douchebaggery.
It is in that spirit that Iâ€™d like to address this part of my post to the couples who I will refer to as Parents Registering In Consideration of their Kidâ€™s Sex, or PRICKS.
Thanks for inviting me to your gender reveal party, for which I see you are registered at Target, Babies ‘Râ€™ Us, and because you have balls of pure titanium, Pottery Barn. It seems like it was only yesterday that I was picking out that housewarming gift you wanted, which wasnâ€™t so hard, considering that you helpfully suggested I purchase whatever was left of your wedding registry, which you created shortly after that bridal shower I attended that was right on the heels of the engagement party you threw yourselves. Iâ€™m looking forward to the invitation Iâ€™ll receive for the baby shower in a few months, complete with the url to your baby page, where Iâ€™ll be presented with a click through link to your Amazon wishlist. And while I simply canâ€™t wait to pop balloons full of pink or blue confetti while I pretend to be positively beside myself in anticipation regarding whatever stupid name youâ€™re going to pick, please know that on the off chance that I actually show up, it wonâ€™t be with gift. I know this looks like Iâ€™m saying that Iâ€™m a thoughtless party guest, but you mustnâ€™t think that! What I’m really saying is â€œfuck you, no one cares about your kid’s junk.â€