You know, it's a short week at work since I get Good Friday off. With the three-day weekend sparkling on the horizon, I can't quite concentrate my attention on much else beyond going home to Indiana for a blissful weekend with my big family.
That said, I'm not very focused on posting this week, but check back with me on Monday March 24 for more posts. I'm sure I will be a lot more interesting after a long weekend.
But before I leave you, I want to mention this: Lane Bryant knows where I live.
Lane Bryant knows where I go when I'm online. I know this, because every page I visit has an LB advertising banner on it. If I were naive, I would believe that LB has just upped its marketing to a broader audience by advertising on cnn.com or theonion.com. I know better than that; there's no way thin people would put up with full-figured advertising on their favorite pages.
Because my searches and interests are what prompt these ads to reveal themselves to me everywhere I go, I have grown ever-frightened of the internet over the past few years. They're keeping tabs on me. I'm not surprised, though; it would be foolish of me to think that this could never happen. I mean, the world is run by advertising and media, right?
But the thing that gets me is, if someone were to search the web on my computer, they might be bombarded by a pair of triple-D's in a Cacique Intimate Wear ad. This would practically shout to them, "Laura buys bras and panties!" which while completely normal, is kind of embarrassing. I choose to not think about such things, instead pretend that people are naturally shapely and do not need underwires and cotton crotches. I would expect others to suffer under the same illusion in regards to my underthings. Heck, I can't even walk through a lingerie department without blushing. I have to take shots of vodka to build up my courage before I go shopping for unmentionables. Okay, not really, but still...
So, they're watching you. Whether you're interested in Old Navy, PF Changs, or Dewar's Scotch, they will put a banner on you before you even realize it. Then everybody will know your secret love of ugly Fair Isle sweaters, spicy chicken in soothing lettuce cups, and drinking alone.
So there's that,