This is no small issue.
Well, here we are. For the past couple of months, forgiveness has been the worst kind of F word to me. However, as I look at the large shirt you bought me on Christmas, I can’t help but think that maybe you just didn’t know. Maybe you just didn’t know the effects your actions have. Every kid dreams of opening gifts under the Christmas tree and saying, “Oh, it’s just what I wanted!” What happened to me? I was drowning in tears and sorrow, barely able to murmur the words, “Oh, it’s a large…” Who would put their nephew through that?
Maybe you just didn’t know that I recently switched sizes to a medium. I’m not drinking Mike’s Hard Lemonade and downing side salad at family functions because I’m a “dick magnet” like Dad suggests. I’m doing it because I’ve been dieting, and if you took some time to get to know the real me you might have known.
Maybe you just didn’t know that a men’s large t-shirt is traditionally 40-42 inches in the chestal area and 17 inches in the neck hole. Maybe you thought I still fit those barbarically gargantuan proportions.
Maybe you just didn’t know how it felt to be told to “just throw it in the dryer a couple of times until it shrinks.” Do you know what won’t get smaller if we throw it in the dryer a few times? Your husband’s stomach. You bitch.
Despite all that you have done to me, I feel like I’m finally in a position where I can finally forgive. Forgive you for my pain. Forgive you for my suffering. But mostly, for the shirt.
Maybe it was magic, maybe it was fate, but one day I got the nerve to throw the shirt on, and it actually kind of fit well. I hope we can treat this issue like your alcohol problem and pretend it never happened.
It’s what family does for each other.