A Moment of Jealousy

It was the height of the massive weight loss. I sent the picture of myself in a Jamaican flag swimsuit. It was originally too small and now it was big on me. Friends sent words of joy and encouragement. My own mother responded with, “Great. Now all you have to do is lose another ten pounds.” Her text perplexed me. My weight was always more of an issue for her than it was for me. I informed her that she was the only one that had something negative to say. She responded with, “I’m the only one that told you the truth.” Her phone rang. My voice was soon heard explaining to her that I sent her that info so that she could be happy for me, not call me fat. The call did not last long because it was most unpleasant. In retrospect, I realized that she was jealous. My own mother was jealous of me. Unfortunately, I do not think it was the first time.
While preparing for my debutante cotillion, my dress had been fluffed. My hair and make up were complete. Someone was even present to make balloons for me. My mother said, “Boy, when you get old, no one pays attention to you.” Why would she make such a comment during such a happy time? She had a role in it. She put most of the after events together. Why then would she feel so insecure about herself?
At some point, my father told me that I was dealing with a fat, insecure, jealous woman. As an adult, I have often wondered what my father saw in her. She always complains and is never satisfied with anything. It has been one of the greatest mysteries of my life.