Christmas with my husband’s family can sometimes be a bit of tug-of-war since his parents are divorced and both of my sisters-in-law have family here too. So my mother-in-law planned a nice dinner a few days before Christmas where she could be with her three sons and their families without the pressure of one or more of them rushing off to another house.
So picture, if you will, three women (my mother-in-law, Sister-in-law#3*, and myself) getting ready to leave my mother-in-law’s house to travel to Brother#2’s house for dinner. The brothers had been out at the sand dunes so my husband called to ask me to bring his bathing suit since Brother#2 has a hot tub. I grabbed my suit too; it was chilly and a hot tub sounded divine. SIL#3 tells me she’s not packing her suit because she can’t face wearing it at the moment.
SIL#3 who is tall, thin, leggy and gorgeous. SIL#3 who is 10 years younger than me, weighs less than me, and is a good 4 inches taller than me.
I look at her, dumbfounded, and say, “If the fat sister-in-law who just had a baby 6 weeks ago can put on a bathing suit, then I think you can manage it.” She tried to make some lame excuse about being bloated, to which I pretty much responded, “What the fuck?” Then she went and got her bathing suit, and I told everyone how I shamed her into bringing it.
Maybe I’m crazy, but I just think life is too short to being worrying about whether or not my husband’s family thinks I’m too fat to wear a bathing suit.
*I’ve taken the liberty of numbering us according to the brothers’ birth order, making me SIL#1 and Monkey Man Brother#1.