Sometimes, People are Just Jerks

“Do my eyes deceive me or are you blessed again?”

“And do we have anything we’d like to… announce?”

“You would love this detox idea, you could lose 20 pounds in a month.”

“I have other friends who just bounced right back after having a baby at 37. Hmmm. I just don’t see why it’s that hard.”

“And he’s your youngest? Are you sure?” wink wink, glanced at my, ahem, middle.

And that was just over the last year. This is part one of a series I’ll call:

I made none of these up. I was on the receiving end of all of these at some point over the last year. If I tried to catalogue how many other examples of moron-ness I have had the pleasure of navigating, I would need to drink a winery. (And I don’t even drink wine, so first I’d need to start, then pretend I like wine, then find out how much wine a winery holds, and drink it all.)

Here’s how I replied. Allow me to repeat the questions:

“Do my eyes deceive me or are you blessed again?”
“Yes. I’m blessed, because you’re already missing one tooth and that’s gonna make it really easy to knock out another one.”

“And do we have anything we’d like to… announce?”
“Yes. I’d like to announce that you’re a complete idiot, but fortunately most people already know that.”

“You would love this detox idea, you could lose 20 pounds in a month.”
“Hmm. 20 pounds in one month? What do you weigh, like 130? What if I’d like to lose 130 pounds, like, a LOT faster? Also your statement is a comma splice but whatever.”

“I have other friends who just bounced right back after having a baby at 37. Hmmm. I just don’t see why it’s that hard.”
“Wait… you have friends? Plural? Do your cats know?”

“And he’s your youngest? Are you sure?” wink wink, glance at my, ahem, middle.
“Oh my heavens he’s not! I must’ve left my real youngest at Fat Burger!”

I wish. OF COURSE I didn’t say any of that. (Read my post about why I blog. I’m POLITE, dangit.)

What did I do? What would you do? Shake it off? Oh they’re just well-meaning and don’t really understand? Oh just don’t be too hard on people? Oh they just want the best for you?
NO.
I pushed it all waaaaaaay down. Buried it six feet under and put up a fricken’ headstone that says
“Here Lies A Person Who is Too Polite to Tell You You’re a Moron and Your Words Actually Hurt People.”

Sometimes I cried. Sometimes I laughed it off. Sometimes I cold-shouldered it. Once I had to leave church because I was doing that try-to-hide-it-cry and I just couldn’t hide it well enough. (uh-huh, church. because that’s where I was for one these golden nuggets.)

Sometimes I pretend it’s a catalyst to get back or keep going to the gym. I start dealing with the hurt by fixing ME. I kick over the headstone and declare NO MORE! And then I diet and gym (yes, it’s a verb now) and I try to be just so grateful that those people said those things to me and now I’m so liberated! Oh Thank You, Morons!! What would I ever have done without you? If only you’d insulted me sooner then I’d have been a size 6 a long time ago! Oh, I mean a 4 - does a size 4 make you happier? okay then I’d have been a 4 a lot sooner! Oh bless you, Jerk E. Moron! Then I obsess call it focus and I try harder just to fail again and I’m flailing about in the thunder and rain and I slip into a muddy unfinished pool with skeletons everywhere and I can hear Craig T. Nelson out there screaming "YOU TOOK THE HEADSTONES BUT YOU LEFT THE BODIES DIDN”T YOU!! YOU ONLY MOVED THE HEADSTONES!!" And then my house explodes and I eat a cookie or five.

(I have a clinical problem with metaphors.)

I always go after the wrong problem, see. If a jerk cuts you off on the road, do you try to be a better driver so that nobody will cut you off again? If someone steals your political yard signs out of your yard, do you change your vote? OF COURSE NOT.

It is very hard for me to sell myself the fact that each time a jerk says something about my appearance, that I am not the problem. The jerk is the problem, and no matter what I do to fix myself, I cannot fix the jerks. I can fix myself on my own time table. But will the jerk still be a jerk? A resounding PROBABLY.

If I had a time machine, I could fix so many things. I could say the things I always wanted to say now that I’m trying to be braver, and maybe I could even make sure that tucking jeans into boots never became a thing in the 80’s. Sadly, I don’t have one yet. (Somebody needs to get on that STAT.) But like usual, once I have something in writing, I tend to hold myself more accountable. How will I handle it next time? I don’t really know, but hopefully I will save myself from a muddy swim with the skeletons and arrive more quickly at the conclusion that sometimes, people are just jerks.