Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Things I Don't Say

I was raised with the wise words:

If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.

It's why my husband's family thinks I'm so quiet.  I'd rather not get involved in their love-filled familial bickering, as I would be sure to say something completely innappropriate to each.  I love my husband, and his family is great.  They just don't always inspire the goodness in me.

I am, however, very surprised that more people don't take this phrase more seriously.  I have been overwhelmed of late by horrid people saying horrid things to me.  And I want to to call them all out on it.  Call them bad things.  Use bad words.  I want to hurl in their faces everything I hate about them.

But I don't.  Because that's not nice or fair or appropriate.  And because I don't want to screw things over for my child, as poor Laura would ultimately be stuck in the crossfire of rudeness.

I don't say all the words bubbling in my head.  I keep them quiet and to myself.  I don't like sounding like a classist, snotty, rich girl, even in my head.  I don't like making assumptions of people's character based on their weight, occupation, marital status, age, family background, childhood, anything.  I don't want to discriminate ever, at all, in any fashion.  But man, is it hard.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again: Do not, ever, ask a pregnant woman the following:
You're only 7 months?! (yes)
How many are in there?  (one)
Are you sure it's only one? (yes)
Are you going to "go" early do you think? (I'd really rather not)
Is it just all in your belly? (um)

And I'd been feeling so glowy and beautiful this week.  Trashy bastard.