My Father, the Anti-Hero

You have no idea how long I spent trying to come up with a 'snakes on a plane' pun, but alas, my brain doesn't work the way it used to…

My husband has produced an enormous, multicoloured snake from his 3D printer – yet another plastic item that I will now find in various places around my house, not to mention under my feet (the toddler is still healing from an unfortunate incident wherein he stepped on the frankly unnecessarily pointed scales of a 3D-printed dragon), until it inevitably breaks, or is lost – and reminded me, yet again, why I’m angry at my Dad. (It’s one of many reasons.)

I once asked my Dad if my outfit made me look like a busty African granny going to church. It was a brightly printed two-piece, and honestly, now, I’d happily take that look over any other; back then, Kenyan-granny-at-mass was not the vibe I was going for, but apparently it was the one I was getting.

“Now that you mention it,” he replied. “Yes.”

“But,” I asked him – this was the outfit I had chosen to wear to my sister’s wedding celebration, so it wasn’t like I’d be changing it – “Does it make me look fat?”

(I wouldn’t ask this question, now, because I try, really hard, not to think about the word “fat” in a negative way, not to think about my body as being “good” or “bad”, not to emphasise the look of my body over, say, the comfort of my outfit, or the way the colours, for want of a better term, “spark joy”. I don’t always succeed, of course, but I try. But this was then.)

He paused, looked me up and down, considered his response, a reaction which was, in and of itself, not the correct one.

“You know, love, an outfit can’t make you look fat, or not look fat. You look the way you look.” I must have made a face because he leaned in towards me then, kissed me on the cheek and said, “And you look lovely.”

So, you can see, I have more than one reason to be annoyed at my Dad. But the decision, made several years back, when he didn’t know – honestly, I’m not sure I even knew – Brandin well enough to know that this would result in an obsession that would never, ever subside.

We have a plethora of 3D-printed snakes. We have dinosaur puzzles, the pieces of which are littered throughout our downstairs living area. We have a toothpick holder and a log lamp and a mechanical clock and a fully functioning (albeit thankfully miniature) crane and several planters and an articulated shark and the list goes on (the list is neverending). And I’m glad he has a hobby, honestly, but before he met me his hobby was crochet, and that must have been very nice, all the same.

No one needs a plaster after standing on an errant bit of crochet.