I’m A Pretty Flower

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I’m A Pretty Flower

So… My Pops got married at the weekend and it was a very lovely day. Everyone turned up, vows were said, kisses and rings were exchanged, all very lovely. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

They did the marriage thing, we stopped for photos, and then we all sat down to listen to speeches and begin the meal. All very wedding-y, nothing out of the ordinary so far.

His new wife’s daughter is having a baby. Five or six weeks pregnant, far too early to be announcing that shit to seventy of your closet friends and family at a wedding if you ask me, but round of applause given, glasses raised, toasts cheered.

Now to my little sister who not only did the flowers for the wedding, but who is also getting married next year. Round of applause given, glasses raised, toasts cheered.

Oh, and not to forget about me, his other daughter.

Awkward silence…. 

“Give her a round of applause because she’s a pretty flower!” 

Cheers Pops, thanks for that. I’m not getting married or having a baby, nor did I contribute anything special to your wedding aside from actually bothering to turn up, but I really appreciate the crap out of being given a round of applause for being a pretty flower.  Not.

How about giving me a round of applause for giving up my day job and managing to be a writer for a full year without fucking it up too spectacularly? Or for the medal I got when I went to a war zone a few years ago? Or for the all-clear I got a few months back from both bowel and cervical pre-cancer? Or that I’m just an all-round super-cool chick? Nope, I’m just a pretty flower. That’s all I’ve got to offer. No grandkids, no husband, no flowers or music or stupid bows around chairs. I’m just a pretty flower who wore a pretty pink dress with her pretty pink hair.

I don’t mind my Pops’ sense of humour. He’s really funny and if he’d said that at any other time, in any other place, in front of any other people, I would have laughed along with him. Instead I cringed as I watched 70 of his closest friends and family, most of which I didn’t even know (because he’s my Step-Pops and we’re close but telephone close, not hang-out close) judge me for being single, childless and hopeless at my father’s wedding. Even my Pops is having better luck with the whole love-life business than I am. And yesterday that fact was very much rubbed in my face.

Little sister – getting married next year to her one and only boyfriend.

New step-sister – newlywed and now having a baby.

New step-brother – two kids with two different women but apparently a hit with the ladies. I don’t know how because he’s disgusting and he makes me cringe.

Cousin one – married with two year old daughter. The wife wasn’t there but he’d come alone with the kid and his mother, my Pop’s sister, and the toddler was suitably adorable and toddler-like, running around, wooing everyone over.

Me: “She’s so cute!”

Everyone: “It’ll be you next!”

Yeah, I’ll remember to say that to you at the next funeral I see you all at.

Cousin two – married with four month old baby, a boy.

Me: “He’s so cute!”

Everyone: “Oh don’t worry, your time will come. You’ll have kids one day!”

Seriously now, go fuck yourself. What if I don’t want kids? What if I can’t even have kids? Who are you to judge me?

Oh, and that’s before you even get me started on the fifty or so choruses I heard from the hit song, “Why haven’t you started dating your best friend yet?” The rest of it goes a little something like this:

“Oh you two are perfect for each other

You should totally just get married

You two are truly meant for each other 

You’ve been friends for 15 years now right? 

Oh you two are perfect for each other 

Why haven’t you two just gotten married? 

I think you guys should just elope and get hitched

You two should definitely have babies

You’ve been friends for 15 years now right?”

You get the gist.

But he exposed me, my Pops. He exposed me and my insecurities in front of everyone and I HATE him for that a little bit. I haven’t said anything and I won’t say anything obviously. He’s my Pops and I love him. He’s not even my real Pops yet he’s put up with my shit for 28 of my 30 years. I owe him a lot. I’ll let this one slide.

It just hurt I guess. Everyone else is just married, getting married, having kids, just had kids, having more kids, blah. It’s almost as if because I’m not doing any of those things, I don’t have anything cool to announce.

I’m just a pretty flower. 




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