Karma Chameleon

I grew up with a mother who took certain creative liberties when it came to teaching her children life lessons.  Once I stuck my hand out the window while we were driving on the expressway.  My mom immediately launched into a long story about a child she knew growing up named Susie Shook.  She had waved her hand out the window and a semi had come along and ripped her arm right off.  My eyes grew wide with terror as I imagined the spurting blood, the horrified witnesses in the cars alongside the Shook family vehicle, the sheer physics involved in reenacting the crime scene.  My mom ended her story solemnly, "So from that day forward, Susie Shook couldn't shake."  It was years before I realized that story was not true.  I should forward her all fear-of-amputation related therapy bills.

Once my sister and I fashioned a swing out of some clothesline and a stick and hung it over a pipe in the basement.  It worked out fine and dandy for a while until my mom came down, gasped, and pointed out we were swinging over a concrete floor.  Then she told us about her classmate, who had made a swing in his very own basement, fell, and had to crawl up the basement stairs to find his mom to try and get help for his grievous injuries.  He opened the door, gasped, and fell at his mom's feet.  Blood gurgled out of his mouth and he died right there.  Lesson learned.  No basement swings.   As a child, I did wonder how my mom knew all of these poor unfortunate people, but I never doubted the veracity of her stories until I was much much older.

My mom is a devout Catholic but she also fully embraces the concept of karma.  Whenever one of her daughters makes a disparaging comment about someone's appearance or lack of intellect, my mom gets this extremely pained expression on her face and says, "Don't say that unless you want your kids to be born with that."  Yes, she believes that if I say someone can't put on makeup correctly, my children will be born with the inability to recognize self-inflicted clown-face syndrome.  If my sister says someone has a funny voice, BAM, the karma gods instantly mark it down and her children are born with helium voice.  This is the way my mother's God works- the children pay for the catty sins of the parents.

A few weeks ago, I was thinking about all of this deep philosophical stuff (probably during a commercial of "Millionaire Matchmaker") when suddenly it hit me:  what insults and bitchy comments made by my parents are my sisters and I manifesting right now?  Did my dad tease some woman with a weight problem and white patches on her skin?  I am sure one of them mocked some poor person about lack of math skills and maybe their fear of sudden loud noises.  Oh, and either my mom or dad had to have said something about a flat-chested woman at some point in their lives.  Sorry, Annie, you're paying the price for that sin.

I am not sure I believe in the karma god my mother worships, but I do wish my parents had made fun of people who were shockingly rich and amazingly beautiful.  I'd have an easier time embracing my mom's theory if I actually had benefited from it in some crazy way.  Unfortunately, I'm stuck with falling off of treadmills and embarrassing myself on a daily basis, all because my mom and dad are such awful terrible people.  Thanks a lot, guys.  I am guessing Mother's and Father's Day are going to be pretty meager this year, so start practicing your fake smiles.