Fear Itself

and other things that scare me

I was invited to my first fredding (friend’s wedding) and within 12 hours everything on my screen was from a company called “Beebo Dress Rental.” Targeted ads are just that: they’re targeted. They prey on your hopes and dreams and needs and fears, and show you what you need to fix it all, just one click away.

I’m no stranger to asking for help. I logged many hours of my childhood in my elementary school’s nurse’s office. I was a combination of hypochondriac and also, I just loved talking on the phone. There was a decent chance I could fake some sort of illness, call my mom on her work phone, and ask if she could come pick me up so we could sit on the couch together and watch Barefoot Contessa. I didn’t need to learn long division, I needed to sharpen my skills on blueberry cobbler making and table setting for my guests in Southampton.

You’d think I didn’t have friends or I was bullied, but that wasn’t until summer camp. I loved being in the nurse’s office at school because it had the strongest AC, I didn’t have to pretend to like kickball during recess, and I’ve just always gotten along better with mature women. They make up most of my subscribers here and I am forever indebted. To my shock and dismay, most other 3rd graders didn’t want to talk to me about the latest episode of Barefoot Contessa.

Mrs. Bouhafa, the nurse, was a nurse by title and not by trade. She wore patterned wrap dresses, huge floppy hats, and kitten heels. Every time I came to her, even if I had an obvious knee scrape, she would take my temperature. “Better just be sure.” It has inspired my enduring practice of temperature taking. It’s the one pillar of my hypochondria that I’m allowed to keep because, it doesn’t hurt to be sure. It’s fun when a robot beeps and tells you you’re fine. Or, maybe your arm is broken, but you at least have a normal core temp.

I’ve been rewatching the Nolan Batman movies and a lot of them revolve around fear. There are, of course, Scarecrows and Jokers to be afraid of, but the first movie introduces Bruce Wayne’s childhood fear: bats. We learn from this that you can turn your fear into the coolest thing about you. I turned my fear of being alone with my own thoughts into my sense of humor. His fear gave him awesome marketing and a cool cape.

Today, among many other pieces of information I’ve learned by accident, I discovered that “We Wore What” and “Who What Wear” are two separate companies. That’s so scary. They both create Instagram ads targeting women to buy a summer dress that’s somehow too big and too small. Companies have turned their fear of running out of money into targeting vulnerable young women into spending money on a dress that will one day cause them to yell out loud when they’re trying to pack while moving apartments. This happened to my friend once.

Today, I’ve largely recovered from my illnesses and/or fears. First and foremost, I’ve managed my anxiety down to a level where I no longer fear the worst. And I’m rarely, if ever, falling off monkey bars. Also, my stomach hurts a lot less these days because I’m exercising, sleeping better, eating kimchi, and taking a little white pill every night that tells my digestive system we aren’t running away from a saber-toothed tiger. And baby, we never were.

Now, my fears are more realistic. Sandwiches are $18. They’re making dog food that looks so premium, I’m tempted to sneak a bite. People, real people like you and me, are using generative AI to write bridesmaid speeches for their supposed best friend in the world. These new realities frighten me.

I’m afraid of not finding success in my career, or not finding a husband. I’m afraid of climate catastrophe and that my skirt is on backwards and that the bird I swerved around on the road actually got hurt. I’m afraid of expired yogurt, tech conglomerates, men who “are looking for something casual” and those animatronics at old amusement parks. I’m afraid I have too much I want to do, and afraid I don’t have enough time to do it. But mostly, I’m afraid I’ll be a wedding guest lost in a crowd of shifty peach polyester, wondering if I should have rented from Boobop instead.