You are what you eat

I have a love-hate affair with family dinners. On one hand, I love my family but on the other, I wish that they would leave me alone. Oh, such petulance on my part!

My family is loud. My mother used to be a teacher - she's loud. My father used to work on an oil refinery and had to shout a lot - he's loud. My sister shouts at nurses - she's loud. I am a teacher - I'm loud. Through no fault of our own, everyone is loud.

Last night's family dinner went something like this:

1) When ordering food, it's always like Groundhog Day. Dad will ask me if I want to eat beef and I will tell him I haven't eaten beef in 30 years, what makes him think I'd eat beef today. Dad will ask me if I want to eat prawns and I have to repeat the above answer. The same goes for squid, duck, lamb and other things I do not consume and Dad will get frustrated and finally ask me the golden question, "What CAN you eat?" At this point, I'd be sulking because NO ONE remembers that I am a picky eater.

2) We bumped into Auntie Daisy at the restaurant. I don't really know how she's related to me but she's also loud so must be family.

Auntie Daisy (in true Bibik form): So big already! How old are you? Must be less than 30 years old.
The Daily Toe: I'm going to be 34 this year...
Auntie Daisy (shouting in delight): WAH! 34!
The Daily Toe (in her head): Yes, and the deaf person in Africa can hear you...

Auntie Daisy also demanded a wedding invitation from me and my non-existent husband-to-be. To which I sagely said, "Patience is a virtue."

3) There were the usual snide comments at the dinner table.
Dad (holding my face): Why so skinny? Like monkey like that.
Me to my sister as she reached out for more rice: Go easy on the carbs. Fat already.

I guess every family is more or less the same. However, mine is extra special because we can call each other names, have shouting matches and yet still know that the love will always be there.

Happy birthday Mummy.