It's that time of the year again when elderly relatives come out in full force to play Greek Chorus. You're the tragic hero, lying there helpless through no fault of your own. They swoop in like vultures. The first strike. You seem to have developed. In no way can this be a good thing, especially since you had a recent compare/contrast session with past and present photographs that showed up glaring differences. Next they attack your self esteem. You're looking like a woman. All this happening while you'm reclining with your legs sprawled while mother sits cross-legged in her corner, shooting you very meaningful looks that suggest you are showing signs of improper decorum. Your brothers snigger in the background.

Seriously, I have a terrible aversion to incidents like these. How am I going to survive the next big one... where they badger me with questions about school, force me to stand next to them to see how tall I am now... basically treat me like the baby of the family? Worse still, they start preaching to me about what I should do with my future based on the things they regret they'd never achieved. It really takes the joy out of family gatherings... how wrong, I know, but the element of dread is always there. I wonder if anyone else feels it too.

My eldest brother has taken to calling my second uncle by his first name. (...has our mother taught us nothing?) Anthony gave us these, he says while distributing labelled ang pows during dinner in front of our guests. Who's Anthony, we want to know. How come are our ang pows got name one... bet she got the most, they say. Ours feel thinner than hers. Then they make me open mine in front of the guests and count how much I got (... or are men just plain barbaric...) When they discovered we all got the same amount, I could see undisguised glee on their faces... But anyhow... At least I know that when I start working in the very near future, I'll still be getting as much from Anthony. Hah.

posted by beautiful at 6:02 am