They are so recurring that they are already boring.
Not a day goes by that there isn't someone complaining about the comments one of their posts receive on social media.
Juana Repetto, because they asked her why she had not shined her son's shoes for the first day of school.
Jimena Barón, because they questioned his body and put him as a model of health danger.
Between well-known and anonymous people, complaints multiply, and there is something for everyone.
What if they objected to their daughter dying her hair?
What if it didn't seem inappropriate to flaunt a luxury vacation with so many people in poverty?
What if they questioned whether she had lost weight.
What if they hit her because she had gained weight.
What if they suggested that she have surgery?
What if they criticized that she had done it.
Exhausting, day after day, the complaints of network addicts about the things that others as addicted as them write about their posts.
Beyond not giving an opinion about other people's bodies and so on, a question: who would think of opening the doors of their house indiscriminately and allowing everyone, literally, to snoop around in every room?
And if you decided to do it, could you later complain about criticism of the kitchen, the sofa or the chandelier in the living room?
Without shame, not only intimacy is exhibited, but even children who do not have the option of asking to be protected.
Where does this drive to display everything so impudently come from and pretend that the universe that watches over it doesn't think whatever it wants?
The best way to avoid this is to make your private life just that again.
Private.
Or, as the saying goes, ignore the fluff if you like peaches.