Wednesday, April 27, 2011

In Which Sven Teaches Us What NOT to Say

I was standing in front of the mirror repeating my daily mantra of self-loathing, as I do each morning.

"I will never be thin," I fretted, twisting and turning in front of the mirror.

"What do you expect?" asked Sven.  "You're middle-aged."

You may not know this about me, but when I get really worked up, I jump.  I leaped in the air and pounded Sven on any part of his anatomy that I could reach.

I was furious.  "Middle aged?" I shrieked.  "Do I look like a middle aged woman to you?"

"What's the big deal?" he asked.  "You're the one who said it."

"You weren't supposed to say that," I said, and I stopped.  Of course he wasn't supposed to say that.  What I wanted him to say was, "Deb, you are even more beautiful now than you were on the day I first saw you.  I am so grateful every day that you chose to spend your life with me.  I cannot imagine what I would be without you."

Ha.  Like he would ever, ever say that.  He might think it.  Might.  But say it?  Never.

So I did the classic passive-aggressive stereotypical woman dance of words, in which I attempt to force him to say what I hope he's feeling.

What I love the most about Sven is that he makes me see things very clearly.  If I really thought of myself as dumpy and middle-aged, would I have been that mad?  No.  Sad?  Possibly.  But I wasn't sad at all.  I was hilariously furious.

I'm so lucky to have me.


Kristina P. said...

Yes you are!

I tell my single, 35 year-old friend that she's practically middle aged, all the time.

Barbaloot said...

Hmm---I'm going to need to follow my daily mantra of self-loathing with an equal realization of how awesome I am. How do you get to that point? :)