I have Magilla Gorilla arms. I’m 5’3” with extremely long arms. I’ve known this all my life. I take after my Maternal Grandmother. Many a times I was reminded by her, “You have Grandpa’s nose and my arms. Be thankful.” I’m not sure what she meant but she’d always feed me so I never questioned her.
My mom doesn’t seem to recognize this. So for years, I’ve graciously thanked her for the numerous sweaters she knits me that don’t actually fit. I make do with quarter length sleeves and try to avoid lifting my arms up.
This past Sunday, in a bold move, which is nothing to what I did today but I’ll get to that in a minute, I told her the truth about her sweaters. In front of my brother and my husband, I told her honestly that the sweaters were lovely but don’t always fit my frame.
Mom: But I followed the directions in the magazine.
pg: I’m sure you did but my body doesn’t fit the measurements. I’m not normal.
I hated doing that but it wasn’t an insult to her knitting skills. It’s just I can only store so many sweaters in my closet. I’d like to at least be able to wear them and not worry about arm pits hanging by my elbow.
So now, I’m obsessing over my arms. I’m actually quite proud of the long arms. I’m like that Muppet alien that can reach the nectarines except I have elbows.
The point is, I’ve been taking chances and speaking my mind. Usually I speak my mind on the non-logical things and keep quiet about the small stuff like arm pit holes and arm lengths.
Lately, I’ve been bolder and bolder. It started with the sweaters and then today, I found myself telling my mom, “Stop being a child.”
Yes, I said it and when I said it, it felt strangely honest. My response was due to the passive aggressive, Joy Luck Club story telling she gave me at 1pm. In the midst of my work, she calls me to tell me to do her dirty work.
I love my mother but she’s a passive aggressive enabler and it does no one good. Passive aggressiveness peeves me. It’s a childish means of dealing with something you don’t like. If you don’t like me, tell me. If you have a problem with me, tell it to my face. Don’t act like a petulant child. I have no time for the games, emotional or mental.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m just as much of an emotional basket case as most females. I can understand the occasional illogical actions of a woman possessed by the devil named Flo. I just feel craziness once a month is ok, craziness 28 days a month not so much. Besides passive aggressiveness is not a symptom of Flo. It’s a symptom of not wanting to be the bad guy. People need to realize, everyone is a bad guy.
The defeatist attitude does not get you anywhere in life and it sure as hell does not strengthen a relationship. So now I’m sitting here waiting for a call I know I’ll never get from my mother. The waiting now begins. The passive aggressive stewing has been set in motion. In 3 months time, I will remark about the sky being blue and she’ll begin her tirade about how I do not respect or treat her like an authority figure.
My friend told me recently, the moment I become a mom is the moment I receive certain gifts. Along with the bouncing bundle of joy, I will receive the gift of motherly guilt trip, motherly stares and motherly glares. Will passive aggressiveness and defeatism come as a bundled package too?
