My wife's mother is a stern, matronly woman. I looked up "stern" and "matronly" in the Cambridge English dictionary.
Stern: "... very serious and not friendly or funny."
Matronly: "... usually one who is not young, is fat and does not dress in a fashionable way."
I want to be fair and honest. That's why I looked up those words. And it's true, my mother-in-law Mary presented as a stern, matronly woman. Very matronly, I suppose, since she's very fat. Also very stern, correcting our behavior. I remember several occasions when her daughter (my wife) and I were reprimanded in public.
Mary, my mother-in-law, seeing us kissing in front of a restaurant: "That's unseemly. You can keep that inside, at home, please. Nobody's kissing me."
Mary, the stern scold, walking with us to our car after an orchestra concert: "Must you hold hands? Is one of you likely to get lost? Nobody needs to see that. Nobody's holding my hand."
Mary's 74-years-old. Yes, besides being stern and matronly, she's also judgmental. Not in a cruel way. She's always been generous and supportive with our kids, her grandchildren. They're both pretty well launched. Our eldest, Emily, is a teacher and recently got engaged. Mary is hearing great-grandmother bells. My wife, Jennifer, is excited about being a grandmother. Our son, Matthew, has finished college. He's found an entry-level research position in a financial services company. Emily and Matthew are both happy and busy. Emily looks so much like my wife. Full figures run in her family.
I should add that both my wife and I suspect that her mother is somehow ... repressed, is a good word. She may be putting on a stern front to avoid us looking deeper. Isn't that always the way with humans? We take on a mask and costume in order that nobody look too at what's underneath.
My wife, Jennifer, is 52 and works in a boutique clothing store. I'm 57 and do marketing work from home. And there's the rub.
Mary moved in with us a couple of months ago. Her husband, Harry, was older and died suddenly of a heart attack. We mutually decided it would be best for Mary to sell their place and move in with us. We have plenty of space with the kids gone. I say, "we mutually decided," but, mostly, it was my wife, getting her Mom to live with us.
"It'll be fine, Michael," said Jennifer.
"I'm not sure she likes me," I said.
"Silly! I'm sure she likes you, and it'll be nice having her here," said my wife.
Here. In the house where I'm home every day. The house my wife leaves every day.
Which leaves Mary and me home alone together. A lot.
Jennifer and I have made it to and through our 30th anniversary. And, to her credit, Jennifer has never grown to be like her mother. To begin with, she's not stern in the least. Jennifer is funny, generous, and open-minded. My wife isn't a tiny thing, but she's not fat. She goes to the gym, stays very active, and watches what she eats. She dresses well, and keeps herself looking great at all times, even when gardening. We've had our ups and downs, but mostly ups. We've weathered our storms and come out stronger. We're both very accepting of one another's foibles.
I've gone a bit more to seed than Jennifer. My fault. But working at home at a computer and on the phone doesn't encourage me to be as fit and dressy as my wife. And I look a little older.
Mary's been feeling a little low lately. Her first birthday without Harry is fast approaching.
"It feels like my life is getting smaller," said Mary over supper one evening.
"Oh, Mom! You're going through a difficult patch," said Jennifer. "We'll see you out right on the other side."
"I don't see how," said Mary, sipping her wine. Since coming to live with us, she'd stepped up her alcohol consumption. It still wasn't much, but it made her seem a little less ... uptight.
You need to socialize. Join a church or a club, you might meet some nice people. Ha! You might meet a man!" smiled Jennifer.
"Are you ready for a new man in your life?" I asked.
"I don't think that would be appropriate, or possible," said Mary, shaking her head. Her ash-and-silver gray hair was tied up on the back of her head in a bun, as always. I'd never seen her with her hair any other way.
"We're not trying to push you in that direction, Mom," said Jennifer.
"Even if I was ready, no man is going to be interested in me, dear. I've never been a pretty woman. I'm fat and I'm old. Even when I was young and full of vim and vigor, I was lucky to catch your father's eye. Harry only married me because I was willing to ... well, do things other girls wouldn't. I would, and he liked that. We were a team."
"Mom! I'm shocked!" laughed Jennifer.
"Your father, my husband, was a sensual man. With all that entails," said Mary, giving me a significant look.
Even though I'd never thought of Mary having a sexual side, she clearly had one, or used to have one. I wondered what Harry asked her to do.
"I have a regular customer at the shop, Anna Maxwell. She's at least your age, and her boyfriend looks only a little older than Michael," said Jennifer. "And, before you ask, I can assure you that she's not feigning youth. She looks like a nice older woman."
"Probably prettier and slimmer than me," said Mary, sipping more wine.
"She's rather full-figured, actually," said Jennifer.
"Plenty of men enjoy a woman with a little meat on her bones," I said. "They may be embarrassed to admit it, but it's true."
"Michael knows whereof he speaks, Mom," giggled Jennifer. "I think he's still waiting for me to fill out!"
"Hush, you! You're not fat like me, nor as homely. Michael's fortunate to have you, and you him," said Mary. "I'm just feeling a bit sorry for myself at the moment."
"Mom? We'll do whatever we can, whatever you need, whatever you want, to make you a happy camper with us," said my wife. "Won't we, Michael?"
Jennifer looked at me, nodding. Mary looked at me. I looked back and forth between them.
"Of course, we will," I said. "I will. Anything."
"I insist on Michael saying flattering things about you on a regular basis!" declared Jennifer.
"Oh, hush, you!" sighed her mother. "Don't be ridiculous."
"What's wrong with Michael offering honest flattery?" asked Jennifer. "Whenever he finds you attractive."
"Well, so long as it's only in the privacy of our home ..." muttered Mary. "I suppose I might not mind."
"I've been meaning to tell you how ... alluring ... you look in that dress," I said, bravely. "The color is nice on you, and it shows off your curves without giving anything away."
Honestly, it was a plain dark colored dress. Rather large and tent-like to cover Mary's figure. But that first little bit of flattery brought the hint of a smile to Mary's face. It earned me a kiss on the cheek from my wife.
"That's right! You speak up honestly when you notice nice things about Mom," nodded Jennifer.
"I shan't be used to that," said Mary. "I really am an old, grumpy, homely, fat woman."
"But you'll get used to it, and like it!" said Jennifer. "And Michael likes women like you, right dear?"
"I confess, I do appreciate older, full-figured women," I said. It was true, if a bit of a stretch for an obese full figure like my mother-in-law's. "My wife is more attractive to me than ever, as she's aged and ... filled out. And now I have the regular opportunity to appreciate her mother, which I do."
Which earned me another smile and kiss on the cheek from my wife.
"You're a silly man, Michael," said Mary. "But I allow that you may appreciate me all you like."
Jennifer and I laughed. Her mother looked serious.
Later that evening, in bed with the lights out, Jennifer gently rubbed my back.
"That feels so nice," I said.
"You deserve it, for being nice to my mother," said Jennifer.
"Thank you, but it's not difficult to be honest, when given permission," I said.
"What does that mean?" asked Jennifer.
"Few wives would be comfortable having their husband offering compliments to another woman. And in your own home," I said. "And I'm surprised, your mother is a bit more receptive than I expected. She's always been a bit ... stern."
"First, I'm not all wives. I'm your wife. Second, we're talking about my mother, not some other woman," said Jennifer.
"But what if it was your aunt, or your sister, your cousin, or a good friend, being complimented, flattered?" I asked.
Jennifer was silent for a moment. "If the compliments were honestly made, I shouldn't mind. Of course, I understand there could be some risk involved! My husband attracted to every woman who entered our home, whatever their age or shape?" She giggled. "I'd end up fighting them all for your attentions!"
"Fortunately, it's only your mother, so far!" I laughed. "I'm surprised that she's so receptive, after seeming so stern and grumpy."
"Are you serious, Michael, about appreciating older, larger women? Finding them attractive?" asked Jennifer.
"I feel silly admitting it," I said. "We've never talked about it. Heck, I've hardly thought about it. Sorry."
"Mom is so ... big," said Jennifer. "There's so much of her."
"I know," I said. "It's crazy. She's enormous."
"I rather like that you like it," said Jennifer. "I've always worried about being big-boned and sturdy-hipped. Will you still want me if I gain even more weight?"
"You needn't worry," I said. "I'll be delighted with you no matter how you look. Of course, you'll be dealing with an older me, not just an old overweight you."
"Even if I was old and overweight, like Mom?" asked Jennifer. "She's pretty big."
"Yes, even if," I said. Would I be delighted? I wasn't sure. I'd never had experience with a really big woman. A younger me might have been repelled, but now I was just intrigued.
"So, you can imagine liking, loving, an old lady?" giggled my wife.
"Of course, I can. I love you," I said.
"I'm not an old lady! Yet," Jennifer protested.
"I love your mother," I said.
"Really? But it's different, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's different," I said. "It's not like I'm intimate with your mother!"
Jennifer laughed. "God! Can you imagine that? Having sex with such a large older woman? Can you?"
"I didn't only mean sexual intimacy, but sure, I can imagine it," I said. "I have a great imagination, encouraged by my wife's intense questioning!"
"It's just interesting," sighed Jennifer. "As I get older, I wonder. And now, with Mom living with us, everything is more intimate. Geez, look, we're talking about it!"
"Are you OK with that?" I asked. "OK with more intimacy, whatever that means?"
Jennifer was quiet for a moment. Then, "Yes, I am. You?"
"Me, too, I guess. I'm getting used to your Mom. She used to be so intimidating. Now she's more ... approachable. She seems to like me, which make me like her more."
"Hmmm." Jennifer kissed the back of my neck and patted my bottom. "Well, you two liking one another is a nice thing, if we're all three living cheek by jowl. Good night, dear. Sweet dreams!"
