So Friday night TC stops by. Demanding things like food and money from me.

There’s always something I owe him for that he insists I’m purposely trying to forget. I insist I just can’t keep up with all of his itemized deductions.

I happened to be in the process of trying on clothes. Which seems to hit me at strange hours to suddenly pull out my entire spring wardrobe and start trying everything on.

The first thing my dear father says to me?

Jesus Christ you look huge!

The look on my face said everything I needed it to. Because he quickly tried to self correct, by saying, large! I mean you look LARGE.

Naturally I threw fat out into the mix and TC tried to deny he meant fat. But, pray do tell, what the hell does it mean when you use the words “huge” and “large” in the same sentence?!

That, to me, screams fatty!!

TC had to spend the rest of the evening trying to tell me what he really meant was simply that I looked too tall in too high of heels. I think he’s still kinda afraid to talk to me.

It’s cool. I’ve gotten over it. I’m embracing the largesse, if you will. And in the process, getting a thicker skin, practicing my don’t make assumptions and don’t take things personally.

Do our parents have ways of pushing our insecurity buttons or what?!