We all have a public and private self. The public persona is directed by social mores, puts on the cloak of responsibility and professionalism, and is socially acceptable. Our private self is the one known to our families and friends. The one that walks around for hours in sweats and bedhead and laughing maniacally at thoughts in your own head. The one that will send a Buttery Nipple into a room full of doctors during their Christmas party. The one who finds great satisfaction in yelling "motherf-er!" You know, that one.
We were going into Albertson's after a long day of work (read: I was tired and far too lazy to make food for my offspring....quick and handy, it is!), when I spied one of our dear anesthesiologists (very cute, freakishly white teeth) coming out. We started chatting and apparently SoS decided not nearly enough attention was directed at him, so he poked said anesthesiologist in the stomach, hitting his belt buckle. Dr. Good Drugs says "Hey, you hit my Superman belt." Such a statement was far too much for SoS and he jerked up Dr. Good Drugs's shirt. Mentally slapping my head, I pulled SoS back and apologized, "Sorry, he has no boundries." To which I recieved the reply, "Like mother, like son." Hey!
Almost 24 hours later I am involved in a day at work that would rival the seventh ring of hell, and my favorite (and personal) OB/GYN comes onto the floor. I greet her warmly and she asks, "How are you doing?" Before I can answer a co-worker says, "She's been swearing a lot." My doc then says, "This is different how?"
Somehow I get the feeling my personal persona has impacted my professional one.