The Padded Walls in My Apartment Are Working Out Well

I brought a witness. Since no one believed me, I needed someone who could testify, if necessary, to the veracity of my story.

Because if you’re going to get arrested for murdering your family, and you need to use an insanity defense, someone has to be there to testify that I suffered severe emotional abuse which ultimately led to my showing up to Family Night Friday’s with an Uzi.

When we left, she asked, “Are they for real? Is it always like that?”

And I told her that actually, since there were less of them in attendance this week, it wasn’t as bad as usual.

This weeks topic: nose jobs. More specifically, my apparent dire need of one, and unfathomable refusal in accepting the fact that I “have a problem.”

As my girlfriend put it, it appears that my family is extremely offended by my nose. My nose must have done something terrible to them. Because all night, they were talking to me as if I was a small idiotic child who was unnecessarily afraid of jumping from the baby diving board into the shallow end of the pool.

I’m not sure what they think will happen if I get a nose job. I’m not sure why they think that I would want to pay $10,000 for a nose job. I’m not sure why if my mother had one, or various people we know have had one, that means I should have one.

I’ve spoken to some friends who are plastic surgeons. And from their perspective, they told me that although a doctor is pretty much willing to do any kind of surgery you want, I’m really not in dire need of a nose job the way my family seems to be pushing it. They just don’t like the fact that I’m ok with myself I guess.

Maybe that’s why my aunt once recommended that I get cheek-bone implants. Or why everyone is always telling me to go grow my nails and get a manicure and pedicure. Or why my grandmother keeps telling me I’m too skinny, while my aunts tell me I lost weight, or gained weight, or maintained my weight well. Or why my uncle’s wife recommended that I tattoo my eyes to make it look like I’m always wearing eye liner. Or why the women in my family constantly tell me to cut my hair to my shoulders (with the males in the background vehemently shaking their heads no). Or why the nose job conversation is so frequent.

I mean, it’s not like I couldn’t get married without a nose job. Or get a job. Or somehow function in society without people shrieking in fear and revulsion when they see me. Let’s be serious, until there’s an angry mob outside my apartment with torches looking to run me out of town, I’m going to believe that I look fine.

But people, if you have daughters, please, no matter what, try to make them feel good about themselves. Be nurturing, be loving. Tell them they’re wonderful. Because Family Night Friday’s shouldn’t be marred by the staccato sounds of an Uzi going off. Ruins the whole vibe. And then no one gets to enjoy Grandma’s famous home made chocolate cake.