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Saturday, July 24, 2010

Sticks and Stones may break my bones ….

My father’s nick-name for me was String Bean – he meant it as a term of endearment I am sure but growing up lanky as a pine and stick straight like Twiggy in the era of bikini clad Raquel Welch and One Million Years B.C. was a real stressor. There are worse things. He called my sister Crisco, and she was his favorite.

But that wasn’t the worse thing – I called her Water Buffalo. Before I understood Karma and what goes ‘round, comes ‘round, an 8th grade chubbette with a huge bubblecut hairdo playing a tuba in the school marching band just brought out the cruel elder sibling gene in me. Plus she wore my clothes and stretched them all out. Turns out I was merely being prophetic – she morphed into a talented successful woman with musical talents and I just got round and rounder!

Apparently the karmic apple doesn’t fall far from the tree – my youngest son is fond of saying “Husky is a dog, not a size!” Seems he has some less than desirable preteen memories of me dragging him to the chubby section on the school clothes shopping trips. By fourteen, he was 6.6 and I told him that once he signed with the Chicago Bulls he would he have to fork over a million dollars a year just to keep me from going on late night TV with his potty training stories Well you can probably guess how well that game plan worked out for me!

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