The holiday season is the most dysfunctional time of the year. People's worst instincts seem to surface in the guise of good cheer, when a social gathering fueled with a little holiday cheer loosens tongues and the truth comes hanging out.
The breakfast group has fallen to the wayside, based on the decision-making of one of the group who decided that it is too expensive to continue to meet once a week, the same person who always orders the same breakfast at a cost of $6.23 per week and generously adds a 50-cent tip. Then, another member added that it is inconvenient for her to meet for breakfast every Friday because she has other obligations (we meet at 6:00 am), so we accommodated her by setting up a brunch here and there. Several times the others of us, perhaps those who truly formed friendships within the group, continued to meet outside the group structure.
The group dynamics include the one person who does the weekly fashion critique and the other one who always has a personal zinger directed my way. The fashion critique often centers on my appearance, with the consensus being that I could do so much more to enhance my looks. I've responded truthfully that if looks are the sole criteria for my life, I fall woefully short, and accept that being critiqued is part of the socializing, even though it's pretty much a "what not to wear and how not to look" reality show directed at me. I understand that I could (perhaps) attract a man if I underwent a complete renovation, but I'm not so sure that my goal at this point in my life is to attract a man. If it were, I'd want a man who accepts me as I am, not for my potential to change into a person with whom he could be seen in public without cringeing.
The zingers are the ones that rattle my cage as they are pointed and barbed. My life was filled with those kinds of passive-aggressive attacks, so I'm not too inclined to take kindly to someone who feels a need to put me in my place verbally. This week, I bought each person a sample of Roche truffles as a welcome to the holiday season. We usually don't exchange gifts, but I had spent the early morning writing checks to the charities I support each year and decided to do something nice for the people in my life, too. We met for lunch, which was a nice change, and as the group members were all talking about weight gain, I laughed and said, "Perhaps this is a good time for me to give each of you a little something to kick off the holiday season," and gave them the box of a dozen assorted chocolates.
I said how much I enjoy the Roche, especially the white coconut flavor, but I don't buy them because I'll eat them. I added that I like to have something on hand so if someone drops by, I can offer them a treat, so if my gift recipients want to regift or share the chocolates, go for it.
Wait for it. Here it comes.
"Well, YOU certainly do NOT have to TELL ME what to do with the box of chocolates. I'll make MY OWN decision, not YOU."
The bad news: she felt compelled to make any comment at all, other than "thank you." The good news: it was at the end of the meal, so it was easy to pick up my belongings and excuse myself.
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