Ah, the family beach vacation--a sacred time for sandcastle construction, raucous rounds of Taboo and--you know--really annoying, invasive questions about your life choices.
Here, how to deflect with aplomb.
Your sister-in-law asks: It’s awfully sunny. Shouldn’t [insert your kid’s name] be wearing a hat?
You answer: Eh, we’re lucky she’s not streaking down the beach with a Roman candle stuck in her froyo.
Cousin Beth asks: Ice in your wine…interesting. Where’d you learn such a fun little trick?
You answer: At state school. Where I also learned how to shotgun a beer and not have $60,000 of debt.
Your mother asks: Are you sure you’re going to wear that to dinner?
Your answer: How silly of me. I must have forgotten that Jimmy’s Clam Shed was black-tie optional.
Your Paleo-obsessed nephew’s girlfriend says: You know our bodies aren’t naturally built for processing ice cream.
You answer: (With a mouth full of Cherry Garcia) Toooootally. Isn’t it, like, so admirable how nomadic Eskimos survived all those years on chard-chia pudding?
Your brother asks: Are you OK sleeping on this four-foot sofa in the living room? We thought you’d be more comfortable down here.
You answer: Sure! But just a warning that I sleep in the nude and don’t get up until about 1:30. So… see you when you come down for breakfast!
Aunt Cheryl muses: Maybe next year, you’ll come with a boyfriend.
You answer: Yes, and maybe next year, Lucy's chard-chia pudding won't make you so constipated.