Just in case it was possible for me to go even one hour without remembering that Men Hate Me, my dad decided to help out.
I was at my parent’s house today for Easter, and to get my desktop fixed. The following conversation occurred:
Mum: Oh look, the girl on TV is bubbly and bouncy with three computers! It’s just like [whyimbitter]
Me: No one describes me that way so it’s not actually.
Dad: What do they describe you as then? Big boobed?
My uncle, mum, me: Only once.
Dad: Why only once? What do you to them?
Uncle: It’s hard to repeat yourself with a mouth full of broken teeth
Dad: (laughing cause he’s oh so hilarious) Do you just smother them with your boobs?
Aunt: She’s not as big as [cousin’s best friend]
I’m so friggin sick off being reduced to my body parts at every single chance anyone gets. And I’m not yet a big enough blog to get trolls, but if any are reading this and tell me it was a joke and I should lighten up, you will be attacked with troll spray. It’s not a joke, it’s not funny, we do not need to lighten up. This shit is poisoning everyone associated with it. Anyone who says it, laughs at it, remains silent in the face of it, is the victim of it, or hears about it is immediately poisoned. And to face this from ones own parents? Utter crap.
I have no idea how I turned out the way I have, but I’m so freaking glad I managed to wake up and make it through without being trapped in the kind of mindset that makes shit like that acceptable. It’s not. From anyone. In any setting.
Incidentally, Happy Chocolate Eating Long Weekend everyone. If your family is anywhere near as horrible as my dad, my sympathies. If not, my eternal jealousy.