It started out with an innocuous comment, as most miscommunication often does. I had a red crinkly blouse with white flowers that I really liked. Such a cheery color and the crinkle material gave me the (false, I’m sure) impression that I looked thinner than I was. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about, right? A blouse, or jeans, or dress that you feel good wearing? It gives you a boost of confidence and maybe makes you feel younger than your years.
The last time I wore it, Chris said, “That looks like something my aunt would’ve worn.”
His aunt? The one who was so much older than his dad, she practically raised him? Deflated, I stuck that shirt in the back of my closet. No way did I want my husband to see his old, dead aunt whenever I wore it.
A few years later, we were preparing to move, and I came across it while thinning my closet. Anything I hadn’t worn in the last two years would go to Goodwill. I held the blouse up, sighed, and threw it into the donation pile. Five minutes later, I snatched it back up. Despite Chris’s criticism, I really liked it, and wasn’t willing to toss it out on the basis of his off-handed comment.
But I didn’t wear it again, either.
Lack of confidence? Maybe. My power red blouse had become a symbol of aging for which I didn’t need a reminder.
Yesterday, as we were dressing for church, the subject of that blouse came up. I don’t remember what the context was (remember, I’m aging), but I reminded Chris that he said it looked like something his aunt would’ve worn.
“I don’t remember the blouse or the comment.” Let’s just say, at nine years older, his aging has progressed a little farther along than mine.
“Well, I do. I haven’t worn it since. I don’t even know why I keep it.”
“Show it to me.”
I went into the closet and riffled through my clothes until I came across the red blouse. I held the hanger up so he could get a good look.
“Oh, yeah. I remember it now. How come you never wear it?”
“Need I remind you once again that you said it looks like something your aunt would’ve worn.”
“My smokin’ hot aunt,” he said.
“What’re you talking about? Your old aunt was smokin’ hot?”
“Yeah, when she was young. She’d show up at the mines where my uncle was working dressed in vibrant colors like that. Always looked good. You should wear it to church.”
“That’s not what you said then. You just said it reminded you of your aunt. I thought you meant it looked like something an old lady would wear.”
“You misunderstood.”
“You didn’t clarify.”
Chris looked down at our Maltese. “Gracie, we need to be more careful what we say to Mommy. She takes things the wrong way.”
And therein lies the root of miscommunication. In the future, when my husband (or someone else) makes a comment that might be construed as unflattering or offensive, I will probe a little deeper for the whole story. Might discover it’s actually a compliment.
Comments 2
If people were better communicators then many misunderstandings would never happen. I like that he finally told you that the blouse looked good. The first time I tried leggings, my now late husband told me not to wear them out doors. I have since lost 50 pounds. I have been wearing them all the time. They are more comfortable than the blue jeans I used to wear. They make me feel sexier. I hope they are as good as I feel.
Good example.