The Life of a Lesbro

I give the best advice out of anyone in the world.. I specialize in relationship advice since I am the most judgmental, cynical, and every relationship needs help type of person. So due to my two crappy posts in February, I figured I’d cap off March with some better advice than this brod Prudence gives. Her link is http://www.slate.com/articles/life/dear_prudence/2011/04/big_love.html for the people who even want to bother. 

Dear Prudence, 
My husband and I help haul hay two weekends a year on his family farm. It’s a big, cherished tradition in his family. His mom and two sisters (they are Amazonian women made of muscle and titanium) have made it clear that they expect me to be there hauling with everyone. These are 12-hour days, mostly in the hot sun, tossing 60- and 80-pound bales then stacking them into sheds. I’m fairly short and slight of frame and am amazed at what I can physically accomplish because of family pressure. I always feel proud after the experience, but I don’t know if I can take it anymore. I already skip out on other grueling family traditions, including yearly marathons and cut-throat basketball tournaments, and his family always makes me feel like a spoilsport. My husband is usually supportive but feels forgoing hay hauling would be a big taboo and that I should be able to suck it up. As the growing season is starting, I’m beginning to have nightmares. Is there a middle ground I can take? Or should I just endure the four days a year?

—The Runt

It sounds as if your preferred middle ground would be the middle of a Marriott lobby. What you describe sounds arduous, but also kind of wonderful (particularly since I don’t have to do it). But your husband’s family also appears to be an agricultural version of the Kennedys, full of hypercompetitive contests and mockery of those who prefer that their leisure time not include a dislocated limb. You’re an adult, you’ve been a good sport, and you’re entitled to say that this year during hay hauling your physical challenge will be climbing onto the table for a hot rock massage at the spa. You also could stake out a more accommodating compromise. Let’s say you agree to haul for a couple of hours, then when you’ve had enough, you head toward the kitchen and start the lunch preparations. Or you could agree to help out for part of one weekend, but not both. Your in-laws’ style is to find other people’s vulnerabilities and relentlessly needle them. So refuse to be stung. If you show up, do a stint of work, and decide to retire to the farmhouse, when they start to mock you, just call out, “I’ll be dreaming of you stacking bales while I take my siesta!” And if it all gets too unpleasant, feel free to bail.

—Prudie

Dear Runt,

Did you marry Ezekiel from season 4 of Boy Meets World? And is his sister Lonni? Whose family has yearly marathons and the women of the family enjoy the hardship of the farm work enough to force you into their bi-annual traditions? Also, didn’t you know all of this crap BEFORE you got married? I’m going to assume you had to have known about it in which case - stop complaining. Maybe it will help your lazy ass get into shape and man up, it’s four days a year for Christ’s sake. You have to pick your battles and not for nothing, skipping out on the marathons was a clutch move on your part, so play with hay for a few hours and make your husband do things in return that he hates to do for 12 hours, four days a year.. like listen to you bitch and moan about how lazy and irresponsible you are. I don’t know, make him take you shopping, or come out for girls nights and his pain will be the equivalent to his. Don’t be such a baby. And if all else fails, do what I would do to my family in the winter time when we were outside shoveling… hide behind a gigantic pile of snow (hay in your part) and literally lay on the ground until you hear someone calling your name to see if you’re inside (you won’t be). They’ll most likely not be paying such close attention to you the ENTIRE time so it will be a nice break. 

PS if hubby’s sister looks like Lonni, throw her my way.

- Kray