Thursday, July 30, 2009

Eye of the Beholder

When I was a kid, it always puzzled me when my mom insisted on going pretty much everywhere with my dad. My uncles would hang out together; they would even go to Honduras solo, but my mom wasn't having it. When I was about 10, I remember asking her why she was so clingy. (Of course I didn't phrase it that way -- I valued my teeth too much to get them knocked out for being "disrespectful.") Her response was something to the effect that good men are scarce and women would kill to have my father.

I have to admit that I looked at her sideways. I was odd as a kid (oh, who am I kidding? I'm a bit odd now!), so I never had that "I adore my daddy" phase. Whereas most little girls saw their dads as gorgeous superheroes, I just saw my dad for what he was -- a hardworking, but cranky, aging, and not-so-goodlooking man with alcoholic tendencies. And in my 10-year-old mind, I could not for the life of me fathom why anyone else would want him. Hell, I didn't know why my own mother wanted him.

I am 38 years old; my parents are still together; and even though my father is almost 70 years old, my mother still accompanies him everywhere he goes. Ask her today why she does that and she will give you the same response she gave what feels like a million years ago: good men are at a premium and there are women out there who would kill to have a good husband.

The other day, I had to attend a Young Lawyers event as the representative from another section of the New York State Bar Association. As I walked out the door, Big Bren called out after me, "don't flirt with anybody!" Then he proceeded to text me several times during the event just to see how I was doing. Honestly, I don't think any young boys fresh out of law school were checking for me, and while my wrinkles and back fat are not getting any more endearing with age, it was kind of cool to know that Big Bren still thinks I'm desireable enough to be protective of.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh, how sweet! I had a similar experience this week. I was cramping, pre-menstrual. I felt ugly and fat. I felt I was bloated and nothing could fit me the way I would have wanted. But I took the day to get out of the funk and get my hair styled and everything and wore a dress that cuddled my voluptious body. I wa amazed that head turned and my husband complimented me on "how well I was aging!!!" Hey, I took it as a complimented