My mother-in-law gave me wrinkle cream and bathroom scales for my birthday. But this time, her surprise didnt wait for a party She never could have guessed where her surprise was lying in wait for her She really had to retreat in that same moment.
My birthday was meant to be an evening of unbridled triumph. Id just been promoted, my wife and I had finally paid off the mortgage, and I felt like I was on top of the world, expecting nothing but warm toasts and good cheer ahead. Just then, the doorbell rang, and in swept my second mumBarbara Wilkinson.
Barbara had this uncanny knack for giving compliments that stung more than soothed, the sort that made you want to disappear into the bathroom to scrub off the awkwardness. Oh, that shirt, rather daring for your waistline, or Youve really slimmed down must be that your work is running you ragged? Her kindness always offered a whiff of vinegar. This time, though, shed decided to go all out.
How marvellously dreadful you look!
The guests were already settled around the table, the food was plentiful, and everyone was enjoying a round of well-wishes when present-opening beganan awkward but pleasant tradition. Barbara stood, asked for everyones attention, and launched into a speechlong, self-important, suspiciously philosophical.
She mused on how time slips by so quickly, how a womans beauty is like a flower needing constant care or it will wilt, and about how a man deserves a sprightly, well-groomed wife. I could sense what was comingsomething special.
She handed me a bag. I unwrapped the paperinside were two boxes. The first held a set of bathroom scales. The second was a gift set of anti-ageing cream with a screaming label that sounded more like an accusation than a promise: For 45+. Deep Recovery for Ageing Skin. Fight Deep Wrinkles.
A heavy silence fell. My wife went red in the face, as though shed like to vanish with the tablecloth. Our friends glanced at each other and grinned nervously, not sure where to look. Barbara beamed:
This is for the future, love! Prevention is the best medicine. And the scaleswell, you did say your jeans felt a bit snug after the holidays. Just looking out for you, as a mother does.
I managed the thinnest of smiles, spat out a thanks, and stashed the boxes under the table. The evening had splintered for me. I tried to keep up appearances, but inside I was simmering with humiliation and irritation.
A Chilled Dish, Six Months in the Making
I didnt make a scene. I didnt throw out the scalesthough, honestly, I considered a dramatic aerial launch from the balcony. The cream I put out in the bathroom, on full display for her benefit, but actually using it was out of the question.
Every time Barbara visited, shed glance at her gifts with a satisfied smirk and inquire, Are you making use of them?
Im saving them for special occasions, Id reply, as coolly as I could manage.
Meanwhile, I was waiting for her birthday. She was turning fifty-fivea proper milestone, a proper celebration, and the perfect chance to remind her that no one is obliged to swallow anyone elses good intentions in silence.
I considered simply returning the favour with a blood pressure monitor and a cream for age spots, but that seemed too obviousshed know immediately I was stung by her barbs. I needed something subtler. Smarter. Something that would cut deepbeautifully.
And it soon became clear where her greatest weakness lay. It wasnt her age, nor her figure, nor her health. Her biggest vice was her tongue. The need to lecture, to criticise, to poke her nose into our business, to offer her commentary on everythingfrom my curtains to the way I chop carrots for soup.
So I set off to the bookshop and found a gem: a handsome, hardback gift edition titled The Art of Silence: How to Hold Your Tongue and Save Your Relationships. The subtitle played a triumphant tune in my head: A Practical Guide for Those Who Love to Give Unsolicited Advice.
And to complete the set, I added one more thing: a large, elegant magnifying glass with an ornate handlestraight out of an old detective film.
This is for the scales and the cream.
Her celebration was held at a restaurant. Guests packed the roomfamily, friends, colleagues. Barbara was the centre of attention, floating in compliments, thriving in her spotlight. She needed it about as much as air.
Then it was our turn to present our gift. My wife went first, always the diplomatshe offered kind words and handed over a spa certificate from us both. After all, were not monstersthe main gift ought to be respectable.
Then, with a smile, I retrieved my own parcel.
Barbara, this ones just from me. An extra, so to speak. Something for the soul and a little self-improvement.
She took the bag with interest, slowly unwrapping it and savouring the moment. Out came the magnifying glass first.
How lovely An antique? But what for? My eyesights still perfectly fine.
I smiled softly and replied, Its for better appreciating peoples virtues, not just their flaws.
The guests chuckled politely, not grokking the full sharpness just yet. Barbara stiffened a touch but continued unwrapping and pulled out the book.
She read the title to herself first, then her lips formed the words aloud, as if in disbelief: How to Hold Your Tongue
She looked up at me.
Its a book? she managed to say, her voice wobbling just a bit.
Yes, Barbara, I said smoothly and loud enough to be heard. You so thoughtfully hinted on my birthday that I ought to work on my appearance. I thought, fifty-five is the perfect time to pay some attention to your inner world and family harmony. Im sure youll find it usefulas useful as I did your wrinkle cream.
Her face coloured with blotches. But she couldnt cause a scenethe book wouldve been instant proof she needed itso she muttered, Thank you. Very original. She laid the gift aside as though it were something unpleasant and alive.
Have you made much progress with the chapter on tact?
No, we havent stopped speaking. And there was no dramatic fallout after the party. What happened was more interesting: the rules of the game changed.
That night, she realised a simple truthit was now a game for two. Any seemingly innocent jab from her would be met by something after which it would be hard to keep smiling.
For the first few weeks, she called only my wife. With me, she was cold, distant, and formal. But after a while, something close to miraculous occurred: the unsolicited advice began to dry up.
She stopped commenting on my weight and holding forth about the food. Each time she was about to say something helpful, Id just look at her and ask, Barbara, hows the book? Gotten to the bit about tact yet?
And shed close her mouth.
Now the scales are gathering dust on the top shelf. I must admit, I ended up using the wrinkle creamon my feet, and they genuinely got softer. So thanks for that, I suppose. And once at her house, I spotted the book on her bedside table. There was a bookmark there, about halfway through.
So perhaps, just perhapsits working.
I suppose the lesson Ive learned is this: sometimes, standing up for yourself doesnt need to be loud or ugly. A little creativity and well-placed wit can speak volumesoften far louder than shouting ever could.
