Lisa Kogan Works to Cure "MI"—Massive Insecurity
Before showing my upper arms in public, I first: (a) Make certain my tankini is clean and there's film in the camera. (b) Drink like there's no tomorrow and wait for a total eclipse of the sun.
I am being ignored by a snobby Rodeo Drive salesperson. Therefore I: (a) Find the manager and explain that I am entitled to service and civility. (b) Slink away as if I had just been caught committing a felony or enjoying Paris Hilton's debut CD.
To secure the salary increase I want, need and deserve, I meet with my boss and say: (a) I've taken on greater responsibility and I believe I should receive greater monetary compensation. Here are several examples of the ways in which I've contributed to the quality of our product. (b) Um...I'm sorry, I'm probably bothering you...in fact let me come back later, maybe... I just wanted to, um, say [insanely long pause], you're pretty.
I am on a first date with a very attractive man. I order: (a) Whatever I'm in the mood to eat. (b) A single grain of couscous because it's essential this person understand that I am dainty and delicate and exist on a simple diet of air and my own loveliness.
When I walk into a party where I don't see anyone I know, I think: (a) What a terrific opportunity to meet some new people! (b) I will spend the next nine minutes standing in the corner pretending to be onion dip, at which point I will fake a migraine, go home, put on my giant Detroit Tigers T-shirt, and watch a rerun of Law & Order SVU, the way God intended me to do.
If you answered "B" to any of these questions, it is my sad duty to inform you that you could be one of the 6,576,344,362* members of society suffering from massive insecurity.
*Note: We do not include anyone who's been cryogenically frozen. Nor do we count one Howard J. Koppleman of Dayton, Ohio, whose parents inexplicably appear to have done everything exactly right—the entire Koppleman family is currently being studied by massively insecure researchers at NASA.