

For the last 25 years, I have witnessed a habit of my mother's that seems to intensify with each passing year. I don't remember when it started, but it was subtle at first. A comment here, a comment there. Insults that were masked as mere observations. I found it difficult to witness because this was my mother, the woman who shaped me into the all-accepting person I am! One of the first times I can remember this behavior was in the 1980's. I was telling her about a new friend I had met in the neighborhood. When I mentioned that the woman's husband was a doctor, my mother's immediate response was, "What doe HE look like?" I remember feeling as if I had been punched in the stomach. I could feel my face turning beet red from embarrassment that she could say such a thing.. I could feel my heart racing and my breathing became difficult. I was struck dumb-founded and extremely tongue-tied. I remember stuttering out a response saying, "What difference does it make? He's a doctor. He does good things!" As the years progressed I began to notice the pattern of behavior. She always wanted to know what someone looked like and along the way, she started commenting on people we would come across in public. I remember feeling like I wanted to sink into the ground after her comment about how some poor waitress or attendant somewhere was funny-looking or had some weird anomaly about them. Sometimes, she wasn't very discrete and would say it within earshot of the poor soul. When my dad was recovering in a rehab in 2004 , we were walking down the hall to leave and as we walked past the nurses' station, she said the nurse looked like a demented rabbit. All I could think was, "Oh, God, kill me now!" In an earlier blog, I wrote about Dr. Baby Teeth. That's a perfect example of this habit. Attaching a person's worth to their physical appeal. I guess it makes her feel good about herself.
So imagine my surprise when at 53 years, 10 months and 8 days old, I finally pushed back. Yep, that's right. Heidi found her backbone today and stood up for the little guy! I had to take Mary Beth to get her stitches out of her face from her melanoma removal last week. We got into the car and before I had exited the parking deck, it happened. She was remarking that the dermatologist's nurse removed her stitches. She didn't comment on the fact that she did her job or that she was really careful, no, she said, "She sure was funny-looking!" And then 25+ years of repression came spilling out. I lost it. Before I knew what was happening I turned to her and said, "Why do you do that?" "Because I'm observant" "That's not being observant, Mom, that's being judgmental and you do it all the time and I can't stand it because all I can think about is what you say about me! How would you feel if someone said that about you?" "They probably do!" "Well, you would feel awful if you knew about it!" "Well, then I won't do it anymore............around you." Ah, Mary Beth. Gotta love her!
2 comments:
For my mom, Helen, appearances were all that ever mattered. As long as we looked like the proper Bexley family, all was well in her eyes. Never mind that dad was passed out on the couch by 7:30 every night from a day of constant drinking. That extends to us and to everyone to this day. Doesn't matter what's real as long as you keep up appearances. And because they are all that matter to her, my mom has always judged everyone by appearances. She had to point out that my new friend -- when I was 25! -- had a lazy eye. Not that she was smart or funny or kind. She harped about my brother's clothes well into his 20s. Even though he was one of the smartest kids in high school and college, president of the student council, star of the school play, you name it, all she could see and comment on was his too-large flannel shirt. I told her years ago that I would immediately end any conversation where she brought up such things. She still thinks I'm horrible for "censoring" her. Because all she sees is superficial, she's led a lonely, unconnected, unhappy life, but she "looks" fine to almost everyone, and that's all that seems to matter to her. So sad.
Alicia, you have NO idea how much it means to me that you shared that! I swear growing up in Bexley is another blog in itself!
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