I talked to my mom today on the phone for several minutes. This doesn’t happen that often, and whenever we end the conversation, I remember why.
It usually isn’t just one thing, and today was no different.
“I just loved the video you posted on Facebook of Purple* [our 6 month old baby girl] laughing! She sure is filling out though. Quite chubby! It’ll be okay, as she gets older she’ll thin out,” my mother said with a slightly worried but trying to seem reassured tone.
WTF. My baby is SIX MONTHS OLD! How can “skinniness” even possibly be a concern for her GRANDBABY??? What’s more, even if she was 16, how dare she comment on her weight as if it were something to establish her value?? Oh man, it brought me back to my majorly flawed self-image days in which I calorie counted, weighed myself, starved myself, and desperately tried to maintain an eating disorder. No wonder. I wanted to smack her through the phone. But instead, I just sort of talked it off and made this face quietly to myself:
But this wasn’t the only time this face made its way across mine. “Does Pink* (our two-year-old girl) like dresses?” my mother asked.
“Yes mom, she is seriously the girliest girl I know. She loves everything Princess, is obsessed with dresses and crowns and frills and high heels and glitter and pink….” I went on.
“I’m surprised,” she said. “With the way you and Silver are…” trying to be nonchalant but slightly annoyed, as always, at our attempts to be gender neutral with our children.
“Yeah, I mean we never discouraged her being that way, we just didn’t want to make her feel like she had to,” I defended myself.
And then this.
“Well, I’m glad that she’s a girly girl.” Laughing. “I like that she likes girly things.”
There are more things wrong with that sentence than I care to talk about right now. Hashtag dysfunctional family for the win. Do atheist families grow up with such an obsession with appearances? my god.