My husband’s family’s habits make me feel genuinely unwellI simply cant bring myself to visit them.
Whenever a visit to my in-laws comes up, just the thought of joining them at the table makes me feel sick. I truly can’t help it. The idea of eating with them fills me with dread. I can chat with them, no problem, but sitting down for a meal is another matter entirely. My husband doesnt see the issue, while my mother-in-law is convinced Im simply being precious and fussing over nothing, the spoiled English rose who never gets anything right.
Thank heavens my husband and I live on our own. Unfortunately, were nowhere near far enough from his parents for phone calls to suffice, so every now and then Im expected to pay them a visit. Every single time, I do my best to dream up a believable excuse to get out of it, because its always stressful for me. Honestly, my husband comes from what anyone would call a very typical English familyhis mother and father both have jobs, both went to good schools. Their house is tidy and comfortable. But from the moment we sit down to eat, its just unbearable. Ill admit it straight awayIm fussy. For example, I wont even take a taste from my husbands spoon if hes already used it. I just cant, no matter how much I reason with myself.
While its easier to accept these things with my husband because hes my closest person, I just cant get used to his parents. Their ways around food, especially, really get to me. Take my mother-in-law, Pauline, for exampleshell mix up a big salad, taste it to check the seasoning, lick the spoon clean, then pop that same spoon right back in the bowl. That sort of thing turns my stomach.
Then theres the drinks. They prefer strong spirits, but I always bring a bottle of wine for myself. Pauline doesnt hesitate to pick up my glass and have a big sip just to see what its like. Why?! Its just not hygienic, and after all, she is not family to me in that intimate sense. I try to swap my glass stealthily, but its not always possible. And my father-in-law, Roger, wellhell spend the whole evening poking fun at me, sometimes in ways that really cross the line. My husband tries to step in but, if Im honest, nothing really changes.
Pauline also has this habit of tipping leftovers straight back into the pots and pans. If she makes soup and doesnt finish her bowl, it gets poured straight from the bowl back into the saucepan and put in the fridgeso long as theres no cream or mayo mixed in. She does it with anything, even party salads that have already been on guests plates. Thats why I never eat anything at their place unless its just been cooked and served. Theres every chance the leftovers on offer have been scraped out of half-eaten bowls.
And thenbelieve it or notPauline spits on the pan before frying anything, claiming its the quickest way to check the temperature. There are dozensa million, reallyother ways to do that! But she insists that nothing could survive the heat, so apparently theres no harm in it. I just cant get that image out of my head, though, and now every time I see the frying pan I wince.
The tipping point came when I saw them letting their dog lick the plates clean after a Sunday roast. They had a big serving bowl left with a bit of potato and stew on the edge, and down it went to the floor for their Labrador, Max. Once he was done, the bowl would be put right into the sink with the rest of the plates, as if that were the most normal thing in the world.
I finally spoke up, saying I thought eating from a dish after the dog had was just too much for me. They stared at me like Id lost my mind and tried to brush it off, saying everything gets washed properly. But I just dont see why a dog should be licking the dinner plates I told Pauline, if its so fine, then perhaps I should wash the dogs bowl and eat my lunch from it. She got terribly offended, but honestly, by her logic there really shouldnt be any differencethe dogs dish is washed too. My husband told me Id gone overboard, but I dont think I was wrong.
The truth is, I simply dont want to visit my in-laws anymore. Or if I must, I wish I could bring my own food and crockery along, but of course that would just ruin any kind of celebration and leave Pauline completely beside herself. I dont know what to do. I dont want to put my husband in an awkward position, as hed be at his wits end if I stopped going altogether, but I can hardly stand visits as they are.
Sometimes I dream of moving to another city altogetherManchester or Edinburgh, maybeso I wouldnt have to go around to their house at all. I could chat to Pauline on the phone if I had to, but visiting is an ordeal I just cant face anymore.
