Thoughts From A Girl With OCD

I have had OCD (obsessive violent and/or sexual thoughts) my whole life. Probably even before I hit puberty. Like most OCD-sufferers, I just thought I was evil reincarnated.

Now that I know what it is, finally at the age of 23, I accept that I'm not evil reincarnated (how narcissistic of little kid me to think that I was the most evil, villainous thing there was!)

However, that does not mean the struggle has completely gone away. . . .

Common OCD Thoughts When Meeting A New Male Client:

Boss: Jordyn, I would like you to meet Mr. Client. Mr. Client needs a new website.

—Mr. Client holds out his hand in greeting—

Mr. Client: Pleased to meet you!

Me: Pleased to meet you too.

—Sudden image of my kneeling down and sucking his dick enters my mind while we shake hands—

Boss: —unaware— Please sit so we can get started.

Mr. Client: Great, well, as you know, I am a family man, and I really want my clients to get a sense of that on my website.

Me: Okay. —takes notes—

My thoughts: Images spread of me pulling down my pants, sitting on his lap, and riding him.

I look to Boss, convinced he can read my mind. Finally, he looks back and smiles.

Oh no, he CAN read my mind!

I look at Mr. Client, who is talking to Boss, and giving me a smile in the corner of his mouth.

Oh no, he can read my mind too! I better stop thinking!

Mr. Client: Website, blah blah blah, family, blah blah blah, products and such.

My thoughts: Trying to force the image of his old, wrinkly dick in my mouth out of my head. Image only grows stronger. Image Me seems to be enjoying it, and Image Client is not.

Boss: I think we got a lot of good information today. Jordyn, what do you think?

Me: —looks down at jumbled, nonsense notes— Yes, I agree!

I reach over to shake Mr. Client's hand, the picture of his cock finally out of my mind. I am thinking clearly again.

Me: It was great meeting you. I will send you the first design once it is finished.

Mr. Client: Great! It was nice to meet you too.

Mr. Client gives me a friendly smile again and I think—He DID read my mind!

The End.

Bringing Children to Work**

I wonder if Bring Your Child to Work Day was discontinued. It seemed really popular in TV shows in the past, but I never had one. I'm assuming educators must have seen the flaw in their plan.

To them, it was a day they didn't have to do any teaching, and they still got the joy of ruining every child's evening by making the kids write a paper about their day. Win-lose, which is the ideal scenario for anyone who has to deal with little "gifts from Heaven" all day, right?

But here lies the flaw:  there are approximately 400,000 women in America who are strippers, and one strip club regular could spend $50,000 a month.*

I can just see how Bring Your Child to Work Day would work out in some reports across America:

Father enters strip club with his middle-schooler son.

Father:  Son, welcome to my office!

Scantily clad waitress seats them at a table.

Son:  I don't think I can write my report on this.

Father:  Sure you can! This is where I conduct all of my business meetings with potential male partners!

Son:  And potential women partners?

Father:  Don't be silly, Junior!

Father and son order food.

Announcer:  I hope you are all ready, because taking the stage now is our main act, Diamond! And, as part of Roosevelt's Bring Your Child to Work Day, her daughter, Chastity!

Diamond, a professional stripper, and her daughter come out on stage, wearing matching bras and panties.

Announcer:  Isn't she cute? A round of applause for our future leading lady, Chastity!

Son:  Dad, that's the girl who tutors me in math.

Father:  See? I knew you could find something school-related for your paper here! Oh, Diamond! How about some father-son lap dances before my business partners get here with their children?

The end.

On a side note, I also wouldn't want a Bring Your Child to Work Day at the hospital (I'm talking to YOU, Kitty Forman from That's 70s Show, who probably shouldn't have brought your son along on your nursing route—though, at least he was a junior in high school):

Bring Your Child to Work Day:  The Hospital

Father, kneeling down to his elementary school son.

Father:  Son, today you get to help your father put a titanium device into someone's teeny, tiny wrist!

Son:  Oh, boy! Can I play with the device first?

Father:  Oh, sure! We are supposed to sterilize these, but how does your school expect you to learn about my job if you can't finger, drool on, and throw around this internal fixation device before I put it in someone's body, hopefully for forever?

I'm sure that would work out well.

*Note, this blog post was NOT intended to insult any readers who strip professionally. I'm sure many women enjoy stripping, while there are others who are doing what they have to do to provide. I have nothing against people who choose to strip professionally.

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