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Language Log

Sunday, Aug. 11, 2019 - 9:03 a.m.

My mother was talking about the other random family members who she met in PA. They had 4 kids. “All girls, but one of them looks very masculine. Dresses masculine, acts and walks masculine. I don’t know what’s up with that.” “Maybe they’re not a girl”, I said.

The gays and gender non-conformers are all up in our family, like the rest of the world, and she just can’t stop being fussed about it. She doesn’t have the worst attitude, by far, but she does have an insidious one. Not _quite_ polite enough to not actually make her opinion known. She simply MUST flag her disapproval. In case anyone fucking cares.

She also finally saw my back tattoo. I was wearing a tank top and forgot to change. There was an initial, “You have GOT to be kidding me”, which took J and I a minute to figure out what it was apropos of, and then she came and opened my shirt to peer down it and said something about “don’t you want to show it off”, but then she didn’t say anything else. That had to have involved some effort on her part so credit where credit is due, I guess. So I’ll hold back on my discussion of “don’t you want to show it off” being a delightfully underhanded thing to say, involving the assumption that of course tattoos are done to be shown off, and I must be ashamed to show it to her if I wasn’t eager to for her to see it.

I’m cranky today and not very happy but at least moving family dinner to Saturday seems to have been a good move because it’s still Sunday and I don’t have to see her today.

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