so let’s real talk about my christmas vacation. seriously. the question that repeatedly keeps looming in my brain is:
why do i come home for christmas when i’m forced to watch only christmas television, listen only to christmas music, take the long way home to see the christmas lights and essentially serve the sole purpose of a cog in phlegm’s cookie making machine?
on top of being inundated with christmas cheer, i also am showered with verbal abuse, here’s a taste.
me in reference to cookie dough: why wont this roll?
phlegm: because the bad is coming out of you, and it feels it.
phlegm to me: “you know, my wedding dress was a size THREE and they had to take it in. you’re not that size now and you wouldn’t fit in the dress.” this surprisingly doesn’t cut deep anymore, i’m used to comments about my weight. for example, two christmases ago i came home after a month of telling my mom that i had gained weight. i was stressed from grad school, my rock solid relationship was on the rocks, and i was living in a new city, state, etc. HOWEVER, the first words out of her mouth AT THE AIRPORT were “oh you did get heavier.” there’s nothing like positive reinforcement, thanks mom.
and lastly (for now) this:
phlegm to my father and me: “she is an annoying kid. no wonder you can’t keep a boyfriend longer than two weeks.”
’tis the season.