If the shoe fits....

So I have this colleague. He's new to the group, has only been with us since mid-February, and for some reason, seems to ask the kind of 'getting to know you' questions that I really don't like answering. Questions like "so how do you like the program?" and "are you and your husband planning on having kids any time soon?" He's also the colleague who accidentally outed my professorial moniker, so I find that, while I'm trying very hard to be friendly with this guy, he frequently manages to step in it.

To keep myself from boiling over talking about my work (see my previous post if you don't know what I'm talking about) or using specific examples that would more than clearly outline my disdain for a particular individual, I find myself making use of some broad-brush cliches, namely "If the shoe fits..." For example:

"When is your birthday?"
"April 2 - Aries, but that's a surprise to no one."
"I don't really believe in that sort of astrological bunk."
"Well, if the shoe fits..."

or

"Why don't you share your excitement over these (previously unnamed) opportunities that have come your way?"
"Because as much as I know that some people would be genuinely happy for me, there are those who turn around and back-bite at me for having said opportunities. Singers are insecure, it's just the nature of the beast."
"Don't you think that's a little stereotypical?"
"If the shoe fits..."

Some might say that my generalization is a double-edged sword. Judge not, lest ye be judged. Am I only becoming more like the stereotypical insecure singer when I make these broad-brush statements? Or is it about survival of the fittest. Developing that thick skin that enables us to stand through the most skin-blistering criticism from our directors and coaches? I mentioned this situation to an old friend recently and he told me to feel free to harden my heart a little at any time. Is this the only path to take? Is there not some middle ground between ice princess and bleeding heart? Where does respect play into this? And why am I asking so many questions?

I'm a softie on the inside. I cry at movies, coo at babies, look at silly pictures on icanhascheezburger that make me laugh when I'm blue, and curl up on the sofa with the dogs when I need some unconditional affection. I'm not ashamed of the dog hair on my black coat or the musical theatre on my mp3 player. And I still get sentimental about things that happened more than ten years ago and I still keep old friends' phone numbers in my phone, even though they haven't returned my phone calls since I got married. So there, poopy poop insecure singers. I like dogs and nice people.