So many days
in so many ways
I quite detest
my extended family
I wonder why they have nothing better to do than pick on me just because I don't wear a ring with a diamond the size of a peanut. And I don't have a cute baby for them to traumatize as they gush over it. Or an ugly husband with a meddling mother-in-law who they can talk about over tea. Or why they feel the need to keep announcing - in the most mincing of tones - that they're 'praying for me'.
Is it any surprise that after an encounter with the not-so-near-or-dear I feel like the last-kid-in-the-playground? You know, the fat one in the corner that nobody wants to play with? The one who gets picked last for everything and that also because the other team has no choice (because if they did, they wouldn't pick me). I often wonder if I really did do everything wrong, and that it's true, there really is no one out there for me. And I will have to, as dadi fears, settle for the one-nobody-else-wants. Or even worse, the one-who-has-no-choice-but-to-settle-for-me.