I Like Big Bones and I Cannot Lie...

Was at my nephew Spencer’s grad party this past weekend, which happened to fall on Father’s Day.

It was a lunch lady sitch for me, which is ideal for making convo with all kinds of friends I’ve not yet met.

Big talk, small talk. I love it all. Size doesn’t matter. Actually, that’s not true. Size absolutely matters (it’s not what you’re thinking, perv).

Someone at the party asked me, “What’s the best thing you got from your dad?” Now that’s a helluva party trick: asking great questions that are super personal without making people feel too vulnerable (in the Brene Brown kind of way).

I barely knew two of the people standing near me before I answered. But after, I felt like we'd gone to sleep-away camp together.

Now that I’ve got you hooked, I'll share mine: big bones.

(You read that correctly.)

My dad, who’s had both hips replaced, was once told by a Mayo surgeon that his bones were the largest of anyone he’s worked on. And when I compare my collarbone to my dad (my own party trick), mine’s even bigger than his.

Gives a whole new “Eff yeah!” agency to “I’m just big boned.”

I love how sturdy I am. Both physically and socioemotionally. Yep, I’m pretty darn reliable to my loved ones. Another top quality I inherited from my father. Thanks, Dad.

Even if you weren't at the party, I'll include you in the circle: