Earlier this week I was reading Big Boned by Meg Cabot, which is part of a mystery series about an ex-rock singer named Heather who is slightly overweight (aka big boned). In the book, Heather is at the home of a college student talking to the student’s mother who admits she doesn’t get her daughter because her daughter is not a size 8 like the mom and other sister. (Seriously.) And there all kinds of things wrong with that sort of outlook on life, but it also reminded me of my relationship with my mom.

When I was young, (and skinny), my mom would tell me I didn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.

Now, I am not skinny, and my mom no longer makes the bird comment. She has other comments, and the comments COULD hurt, but I have never let them because I understand. Plus, sometimes her comments come back to bite her.

For instance, in December, I was talking to my mom on the phone. She mentioned she had received her Christmas present from my older sister, Kari. The conversation went something like this:

Mom: Kari must think I’m huge. She bought me size 20 pants, and they are just too big.

Linda: (I have no idea what I said, but I think I asked if she tried them on. Isn’t it convenient how I remember her words and not mine?)

Mom:  They are huge. Maybe they will fit you.

*Crickets*

Linda: (while laughing) They are huge, and so maybe they will fit me? What exactly are you trying to say, Mom?

Mom: I didn’t mean it like that.

Linda: Oh? How did you mean it? That I’m huge and you aren’t? That I’m bigger than you? That I am fat?

Mom: (changes subject)

Fast-forward a few days to the Denton family Christmas with my brother and his family, my family and my mom.

Linda: Mom, you look nice. I like that outfit.

Mom: It’s my Christmas present from Kari.

Linda: Oh? You mean those are the huge pants? The ones you’ll swim in, but they might fit me?
And then I precede to tell my brother all about my mom’s inappropriate comments while totally harassing my mom because the size 20 pants fit her. And we both have fun harassing her. Poor Mom.

And she totally deserves it because her and Kari do not have thunder thighs. I think they would be considered apple shaped when I am definitely a pear. They have very tiny legs, but I inherited much meatier legs. It is not fair. I wanted the skinny thighs, but I don’t have the varicose veins my mom has either, so I guess I will just have to deal with it.