Tears in My Beer

Today I had lunch with my family at my grandparent's home. After lunch, the men hang out in front of the TV and take naps and the ladies take to the front porch to rock and swing. In the middle of our rocking and swinging my grandmother looks at me and says "I just realized who you remind me of, Aunt Jessie". "She had black hair and was short, squatty and fat". I have not much of an idea who Aunt Jessie was, all I could say was "I hope she was pretty". Her response, "she wasn't a bad looking woman". Uh, ok. Then sometime later she says "you have an Italian nose". Uhhh, ok. I am an overly sensitive person. Have been all my life. It was all I could do not to roll away crying. No my grandmother wasn't over or under medicated and she is not going senile. I can only surmise that when you reach a certain age you can say whatever to whoever you want. Also in my summation, I realize when my feelings get hurt it doesn't make me want to rise above the comment and find the better me. Instead I want to retreat into a place that is dark and alone. I've always said I like my own company better than anyone else's and this might be the reason why. I don't need constant reminders of my shortcomings ie. too fat, too selfish, take too many naps, have too many freckles, my non-Italian heritage, liking of expensive things and that I will eat ketchup on the finest steak in town. I'm a realist, none of us are perfect but isn't that for our own judging if we should be judged at all?

I think I'll I go sit in my closet and have a cocktail now.