tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801485432556979796.post5670291612760419172..comments2024-02-22T02:15:01.912-08:00Comments on The Narcissistic Continuum: 1950's Documentaries: Doing Gender WellCZBZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09575206236892096611noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801485432556979796.post-19321460532184825962012-07-21T12:59:19.299-07:002012-07-21T12:59:19.299-07:00hahaha! I love reading your replies! I'm so gl...hahaha! I love reading your replies! I'm so glad you found my blog and started talking with me. A lot of readers appear to be younger, like my daughter's age. She can't (even though she tries) relate to the industrial-sized social conditioning we boomer girls suffered.<br /><br />The sad thing about me though, TW, is that I was taking notes during Coronet Films. <br /><br />Dinner at our home today is very different from dinner with narcissists. I cross my legs like a Bodhisattva and nobody fusses if elbows are on the table. It's better for eating with fingers anyway.<br /><br />My mother was a real stickler for proper manners. she says, even to this day, that she does not eat dinner. She DINES. The first time my daughter heard that, she laughed herself silly...<br /><br />Say "HI" to your geriatric cat for me...my cat bonded to my nephew and pretty much ignores me unless I'm feeling sad. Then he shoots his tail in the air and parades around the house like my X-husbaNd used to do and then I'm so damn happy to be divorced that attitude changes to gratitude. And the cat gets treats.<br /><br />I love cats.<br />CZCZBZhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09575206236892096611noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801485432556979796.post-35139503786951116132012-07-21T12:38:58.753-07:002012-07-21T12:38:58.753-07:00I have no doubt some of the younger readers are lo...I have no doubt some of the younger readers are looking at this with a sense of disbelief as in HUH? But that WAS the socialization, the role models which were proffered and insisted upon during the '50s. I also remember them well.<br />However, our dining room table/dinners LOOKED like this but the reality is, it was a War Zone. It was the only time my Psychob "Mother", Dad, Nsis and I were "together." It was Psychob's "opportunity" to set loose all the nastiness and rage at her command: No one was "exempt." Fights at the dinner table were common and it was horribly anxiety provoking for me. I had been knocked off my chair, slapped, sent to my room for such "transgressions" as using my left hand as my primary hand-I'm a "lefty". My goal was to eat as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. It was nearly impossible to fly under the radar with Psychob. (Unless she started a battle with Dad who would attempt to placate her to the extent possible.)<br />That woman HATED being a wife, a mother, a "housewife"-we had "Help" so it's not as if she slaved all day cleaning, cooking, doing laundry etc. I don't believe she enjoyed a single aspect of her life and you know the expression, "If momma ain't happy, ain't NOONE happy?" Peace, calm, respect, humor-none of those were present despite the appearance of a lovely setting. I was NOT "allowed" to have food preferences and to this day I can not stand liver. Kids have different taste buds than adults. I went from a high-chair to brussel sprouts and that horrid liver. Didn't matter if I liked it or not-and gawd help me if I tried to hide some under the mashed potatoes. <br />To this day, people often remark about how I set a table, serve and "eat so quickly and neatly." (I am the Queen of "inhale-the-food" and leave not a crumb.)They even laugh about how I immediately put the napkin in my lap as soon as I sit down. Years of dinner table terrorism have left their mark.<br />But this little movie above is loaded with meaning and memories for me. Brother studies, sister learns her "role" as "Mother's Little Helper" with the goal of turning out "Appropriate Wife Material." Gawd forbid a girl should also study seriously and desire to continue her education post HS. College (one of the Seven Sisters, of course) was acceptable. After all, it exposed them to suitable mates from Harvard, Yale, Princeton etc. at "Mixers."<br />When DH was alive, I enjoyed preparing meals-nothing exotic and eating together was relaxed, telling each other about our day etc. He would tell me not to go to so "much trouble" but I enjoyed cooking, and he always helped clean up etc. Now as the Widow-With-The-Geriatric cat I commit all kinds of "atrocities:" I graze more than prepare "meals" and horror of horrors, nosh on what ever, when ever, laying on the couch and reading. Trouble the cat is in her usual position above my right shoulder, snoozing and wakes up long enough for a bite of whatever-a piece of turkey from my sandwich is her "favorite."<br />No doubt, I'm now condemned to domestic "hell" and have flunked "Home Ec" with flying colors! ;)<br />TWTundra Womanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12262066568878267648noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801485432556979796.post-27457037761455004192009-09-09T16:09:37.357-07:002009-09-09T16:09:37.357-07:00Hi There!
Great blog post! Thanks for sharing.
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