So I'm going to be a little whiny because I just spent several days with family of both the mine and the in-law varieties, and I love them very much but they make me regress several years. If you don't like it...whatever, I do what I want. So there.
Ya'll make no mistake. I love my mother. I have no doubt she loves me. Mother-daughter relationships always seem to be complicated. Please consider that my disclaimer.
My mother is one of THOSE. You know, one of the critical ones. She doesn't view herself as critical; she sees herself as CONCERNED. Sometimes I can accept her version of things, like when there is something that might actually be an issue to be concerned about.
My mother's pet "concern" since I was 12 has been my complexion. I don't have acne, but I have a tendency to stress breakouts (ahem, MOTHER) and this apparently worries her. Look, I don't love having zits (especially at 28; I was promised I would outgrow this. Lying liars seated upon thrones of lies!)but...of all the things I myself have a tendency to get anxious about, my face is not really one of them. I need time to worry that a meteor will crush me or my husband will die if the house isn't spotless or my car will spontaneously crash if it isn't completely clean inside and out or that other drivers will swerve into me at high speeds for no reason or that there is a serial killer in the closet in the guest bedroom. This doesn't leave me time for "concern" about my face. I'm clean, I'm eating right, I'm not touching my face, I'm doing my best. The rest is in God's hands as far as I'm concerned, and He's probably a little busy with more important things.
So of course I'm broken out over Thanksgiving, and of course this is the END of the WORLD as we know it.
"Are you drinking plenty of water? You aren't touching your face are you? You don't put the phone against your face do you? Are you cleaning your phone? You should clean your phone. (Through this portion, I am sitting there stoically, nodding and shaking my head where appropriate, hoping that if I ignore this it will go away) Are you washing your face?"
Clearly, the bad thing did not go away. Also that last one makes me feel about 7 years old and I can't bite my tongue anymore.
"No, Mom, do you think that could be the problem?"
And then she STARES at me. With this...face. It is wholly indescribable. Imagine that you have just told your mom you have cancer. The look of horror and shock and worry and near tears you would see in her face is the closest I can get to describing this expression. Also, if this is the face I get over PIMPLES I hope to high heaven I never have to tell her I have cancer.
"Mom, why are you WORRIED about this? It's unattractive, it's not fatal. I already snagged me a man, you know. He's not going to leave me over it. I'm not going to get demoted at work. My friends will still be my friends."
"Alright, Ms. Smart Alec, what if you get (whisper) scarred?"
"Then...I will be scarred? Are you afraid the villagers will come after me with their pitchforks and their torches?"
Now she is wringing her hands in worry and also shooting me the death glare because of my smart mouth. But she takes my point. FOR THE TIME BEING.
An hour later I am presented with a cucumber and instructed to slice it up and rub it on my face. I do it because it's not worth fighting over and I figure if she sees me doing something maybe it will make her leave me alone for the rest of my visit.
And I will be damned if it didn't work. My mother was right, I was forced to admit it, and now I will never hear the end of anything again, world without end, amen.