Okay, this may seem really pathetic, but not a day goes by where I don’t laugh at myself. You may think that sounds really healthy - I’ve heard it is anyway. But I also wonder if its good to make so many errors, mistakes, bumbles that you find yourself laughing at yourself as often as I do. At any rate, I laugh at lot.
And its not just me that cracks myself up. You love my pronouns, you know you do. I laugh at other people - All. The. Time. Sometimes even in their presence.
Watching television with me can be quite a hoot. I mock the commercials. I mimic the things characters say. I repeat obnoxious phrases for hours. Yes, this is probably why Hubby retreats to the basement to watch “the game”. Sure he does. All this for a little snicker.
Whenever my family gets together, we spend most of the time laughing. When we play Balderdash, it’s a loud and memorable experience. We can laugh at just about anything. The way my brother runs into the wall. The way my sister eats a cookie and it crumbles. The way my mom blurts out some random, seemingly off-the-wall, question. The way my dad will sit with his coffee cup carefully balanced on top of his head. Yes, we laugh a lot. My family has an excellent sense of humor - thanks to my parents.
I have to remember that not everyone grew up with my awesome family. Strangely, things that strike me as hysterical don’t even get others to crack a smile. Which has been known to cause really awkward and uncomfortable situations. There I’ll be, doubled over, wheezing and gasping between fits of giggles. Eventually I stop laughing and stop repeating the funny line and notice that they indeed heard me and are making a mental note to research psychiatric care in my area. Inevitably I get the laughing somewhat under control and then spend the rest of my time sputtering and snorking under my breath as I try desperately to forget the hilarity I just witnessed. Of course, I just find that even more hilarious than the original funny so then I laugh harder. And harder. And can’t get a grip. I apologize for my complete lack of composure and manage to at least get myself to another room where I can laugh till I cry - the freedom to let it all out makes all my giggles cease.
Laughter is meant to be shared. And it should not, in most cases, be apologized for. I can’t think of a single time I laughed at someone else where I thought badly of them. I laugh at people because I love them for being human and for having the ability to mess up every once in a while. Yes, I love my brother for running into the wall and then turning around and slapping it for being in the way. I love my mom for her bizarre “Are you the king?” questions that for a few brief seconds make sense only to her. I love people who can laugh at themselves, because I love to laugh. And anyone who gives me the chance to do that, well, they’re awesome. And on some level, they’re loved for just that.