"Monique Y. Mudama" wrote in message
...
Let me preface this by saying that I love my mother. She is a good
person, she's kind-hearted, and she doesn't mean to hurt anyone.

It's just that she seems to have no filter between her brain and her
mouth.

So yesterday, I'm on the phone with my parents. I tell them I was
going to get a few pairs of shorts appropriate for work.

"Well, you shouldn't wear shorts to work. It looks bad."

"I know the shorts I have aren't appropriate for work. That's why I'm
going to get a few nicer, longer pairs. Lots of people wear shorts at
this company."

"Well, good, because you look awful in those short shorts you have
now."

@#% !#!@#~@!~

Let's review. I tell my mom I'm planning to buy longer shorts for work,
and she tells me that my current shorts look awful (because, you see,
I'm heinously fat, at least according to my mom. Nevermind that I
mountain bike for miles at altitude in the mountains, that I practice
martial arts and go hiking with my friends ... that's not important.
What's important is the number on my pants, and clearly the way to get
me a smaller number is to lambast me about how I look like crap at every
opportunity).

You know, I really try to have a good body image ... DH loves my body.
Sure, I'd like to shed a few pounds, but then, so would the vast
majority of Americans. I'd rather be overweight and active than thin
and inactive, that's for damn sure.

I don't know how to make it so that comments like this don't hurt.

She doesn't just pull this stunt with me ... while we were staying with
my aunt, a woman that my mother adores and who has had several
unsuccessful marriages, my mom somehow went off on a tangent (unrelated
to my aunt) about how you wouldn't want to be a woman who's been married
several times ... when all of us immediately tried to shut her up, she
kept trying to "explain," making it worse every time. While we were
visiting some of my aunt's friends, one was talking about a horrible
flight back from Germany in which, among other things, she was served
no food. Mom instantly insisted that "You're lying. Lufthansa always
serves great meals, and you can ask anyone." And then proceeded to
defend that thesis vehemently while the rest of us turned pale and tried
to shut her up.

There's a quote I found ... I honestly don't know where it comes from
(anyone know?) ... but I wish I could somehow make Mom's words pass
through this filter before they came out her mouth:

"The Sufis advise us to speak only after our words have managed to pass
through three gates. At the first gate, we ask ouselves, 'Are these
words true?' If so, we let them pass on; if not, back they go. At
the second gate, we ask, 'Are they necessary?' At the last gate, we
ask, 'Are they kind?'"
-Eknath Easwaran


--
monique, who spoils Oscar unmercifully

pictures: http://www.bounceswoosh.org/rpca

Ah Monique how I wish I had heard that quote many years ago. I, like you,
love my mom, but oh the connection between her brain and her mouth is like a
slide with no buffers or stops. My family and I were approaching the
gathering where there was in progress the celebration of my dear Grandfather
93rd birthday. Mother had arrived before we had. I was walking up to join
the family. I take after her in that I am stocky, that day I was wearing a
dark purple dress with rick rack trim. She stated loudly as we approached
the group, "Charleen, you look like a purple dirigible." I was truly tested
that day!!

I know how you felt. Love and understanding is our armour.

Charleen