I am a recovering fussbudget, and it is payback time for me. I am surrounded by fussbudgets fussing about my business and trying to control my life just as I fussed about everyone else’s business and tried to control their lives.
According to the dictionary definition, a fussbudget is a person who fusses over trivial matters. I have added to that definition. Not only do fussbudgets fuss over trivial matters, but they are control-freak-busybodies minding other people’s business.
Fussbudgets love to lecture. They will give you unsolicited advice because they know what is best for you better than you do. So, fussbudgets will impose their will on you for your own good.
I never realized how much I was a fussbudget until I was recovering from a brain transplant–I still am–and could not do things for myself. I had to ask the fussbudgets for help.
Fussbudget: I am coming to visit you. Is there anything you want?
Me: Yes, I’d like blah blah blah.
Fussbudget: Blah blah blah?
Me: Yes, blah blah blah.
Fussbudget: I don’t think you need blah blah blah. I’m not going to bring it.
Me: But you asked me what I wanted.
Fussbudget: Yes, but I don’t think you need it. I will bring you something you need.
I love President’s Choice Oatmeal and Raisin Cookies. The hospital and current rehab centre do not give me enough food with their three meals, and I get hungry between meals. The cookies provide a wee snack. Besides not eating anything with eyes because meat causes digestive problems, I have no dietary restrictions.
During a recent conversation–er–rather lecture, a fussbudget asked me THREE TIMES whether these cookies were good for me. THREE TIMES, I said that I had no dietary restrictions and had eaten the cookies in front of several nurses while they were doing their duties. Most of these nurses are fussbudgets. If the cookies weren’t good for me, they would have confiscated them and put me in a pillory.
Fussbudget: Does your doctor know that you’re eating cookies?
Me: I don’t know, but I have no dietary restrictions.
Fussbudget: But I thought you were prediabetic.
Me: If I was, then I am not now. The doctor took my blood for over a week to check my blood sugar level. It was normal. During the blood-sugar-testing week, I was eating the cookies as snacks.
Fussbudget: I don’t know; I don’t think the cookies are good for you. I will call your doctor and tell him about the cookies to find out whether they are okay. I will not bring you more cookies until I speak with your doctor.
Can you believe it? It sounds like a parent talking to a child, not one adult talking to another! “I will call your doctor . . .”
Fussbudgets do not understand boundaries. They do not know when matters are NONE OF THEIR FUCKING BUSINESS.
I have apologized to some of the people I fussbudgeted years ago. They were puzzled because they did not remember me overstepping boundaries.
When I express my needs and wants to some fussbudgets, they lecture me on what a burden I am and that I am too demanding. I hate asking them for something because it will come with a lecture.
“I have to put myself out to do what you want; so I’m going to do it my way and not how you want me to do it. You don’t need everything you’re asking for. I will bring you what I think you need when it is convenient for me to visit.”
Karma is a bitch!