Saturday, May 22, 2010

Hush hush...

I was a fat kid. I was also a fat teenager, a fat college student and a fat adult. And by all definitions, I am still fat. However, after having a gastric bypass in 2008 and losing 145 pounds, I'm just not as fat. And like many fat kids, or kids who are persecuted for any reason really, I developed a skill that I like to refer to as self-deprecating wit. Anyone who knows the story of Cyrano de Bergerac knows what I'm talking about here. You learn, in an attempt to stave off the scorn of other children, to make fun of yourself better than anyone else possibly could. Their petty insults pale in comparison to the venomous jibes that drip off your lips like honey directed at none other than yourself. Because, in all honesty, it hurts less coming from yourself than from the classmates that you want so desperately to fit in with.

Now in later years, my self-deprecating wit matured into wit of a more generalized nature. I felt compelled, in most social situations, to be the comedian. I always had a joke or a funny story. I wasn't the beautiful girl who served as party decoration, or the slutty girl who served as party favors. I was the entertainer. The one who filled the uncomfortable moments of silence that happen on occasion at parties. When no one else had anything clever to say, that's when I stepped in with one of a million things I had on reserve to talk about at parties.

Now today, as a 36 year old woman with what I would say is a modicum of self-confidence, I am...a talker. I like to talk. I enjoy it anytime I feel comfortable in my surroundings. Which is a clue, by the way. If I'm around and I'm not talking, I'm uncomfortable, usually either because I'm surrounded by mostly strangers, or by people far more beautiful than I. But if I am comfortable with the surroundings and the company, I can talk your ear off. I come by it earnestly. My grandfather and my mother are exactly the same way.

But here is my most recent quagmire. I spend the majority of my day with a five month old. I love him very much and wouldn't sell him to the gypsies for any amount of money. However it makes for very one-sided conversation. While I am free to talk to him about any subject I choose without worry that he will be bored, I don't get much feedback. So on the occasion that I have time to make or receive a phone call, or I have a few minutes at night to play my online game with my friends, I suppose I'm a bit too chatty. Especially given the rather mundane nature of my life, which is the basic subject matter for most conversations I have these days. Because no one really cares that I bought my son a new stroller because the $12 umbrella stroller that I bought for him at Walmart had front wheels that wouldn't pivot, making the stroller almost impossible to navigate. Or that I don't understand why the size charts for babies are so inaccurate, as my five month old who is in the 50th percentile for his height and weight now wears a size 9 month outfit. No one, of course, except me.

So I decided that maybe I should just take a social sabbatical for the next couple of days and refrain from imposing my loquaciousness on my poor friends. Except of course for anyone who is choosing of their own free will to read this post. Because obviously you all are just gluttons for punishment. :)


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