No! (Or the Curse of the XX Chromosomes)

The curse was set in motion over a quarter century ago when a double X chromosome made me a baby girl. Had I been born with a penis this would never have happened. So not only do I have to deal with childbirth, menstrual cycles and their embarrassing surprise appearances at tender developmental ages, mammograms, being paid less, being slower/weaker/shorter, the burden of carrying about 16 pounds of fatty deposit in my chestal area (I smell another bitchy blog entry…), and not being able to pee standing up, I have another hurdle as a woman…

I’m being incessantly invited to Mary Kay/PartyLite/Avon/Tupperware/Fun Parties/Pampered Chef (sorry, Lindsey) parties. I’m sure there are people who get an invite to these and excrete in their excitement. I am not one of these people. Getting an invite to a pyramid scheme party sends me into a spiral of guilt and avoidance.

Much like breaking up with my on-again-off-again x5 high school boyfriend (sorry, John!) I often opt for the easy way out. I don’t tell them directly "No, I don’t want to go to your party. If I wanted to buy your product I’d go to their website or a comparable website." (The corollary being "Okay John, I’ll date you again because I’m lonely and I like making out with you in front of your geometry class, but I’m eventually going to get bored and start avoiding you until you get the picture.") Sure, that’s probably worse, but I find myself either avoiding the situation ("No, I didn’t get your text!") or committing to a party and then backing out at the last minute. I just can’t say no (sorry, Nancy Reagan!).

Men don’t get invited to these things! You NEVER see this scenario:

Three guys are at a table at the neighborhood pub. The table is littered with empty pint glasses and everyone is pretty sauced.

Tony: Hey guys, I almost forgot. I’m selling Joey Buttafuoco’s new line of Ball Scrub and want to throw a junk washing party next Friday. If I get enough guys to come over I get a free pube trimmer.

Phil: That sounds great! Typically I buy my junk scrub for a low price at the local discount retailer where I do the rest of the shopping anyway, but I think I want to support your new small business. Just remember me when you’re driving your new flesh-colored Ball Scrub Pontiac Solstice!

Rudy: Can you tell me more about how I can be a Ball Scrub representative in my area?

Hank (overhearing from the next table): Ooh! I was going to go to a bikini Jello wrestling match that day but I’m all about hanging out with other guys I barely know and talking about my personal hygiene instead.

So why am I subjected to this treatment? Why do I feel like more of a jerk when I don’t show up or ignore the invite than if I were to say no? Why do I keep getting invited when I already have a negative track record of attendance? Surely there’s a better way to make extra money rather than forcing your friends/family/strangers on the street to feel obligated to attend your parties and buy something.

If I got a sex change would the invites dry up along with my oversized mammary glands?

For the record, I have attended 3 Mary Kay parties and 1 Fun Party in the past 9 years. I was also part of an organization that relied heavily on high-pressure selling and scare tactics for retention. Been there. Done that.