Rewind time thirty years and picture this. It’s a typical summer day in the quiet, yet quaint, town of Mansfield in Victoria. A young mum (who is carrying a one-year-old baby on her hip) grips her little girl – who is aged around four years old – by the wrist as they cross the main street. Suddenly, the little girl spies an overweight woman crossing the road in the distance, and decides to – rather than be polite and ignore his woman’s probably unavoidable (or perhaps typical) middle-age-spread –shout, at the top of her small (but effective) lungs, “Hahah! Look at that fat lady over there, mum!!!!” In case you haven’t guessed, the little girl in this story is ME! And the poor (and no doubt extremely embarrassed) mum, with the one-year-old baby attached to her hip, is my mum.
Now I want you to fast-forward thirty years, and picture this. It’s a typical late-spring day, in the hustling bustling city of Melbourne in Victoria. A mum (who has a one-year-old baby sitting in front of her in a pusher) keeps a watchful eye over her little girl – who is aged three-and-a-bit-years-old - as they wander through Federation Square. Suddenly, the little girl spies an overweight man in the distance, and decides to – rather than be polite and not pay any attention to this man’s probably unavoidable (or perhaps typical) middle-age-spread – say (as soon as the man is within earshot), in a rather loud, and clearer-than-usual, voice, “Hahah! Look at that big man, mummy!!!” Now in case you haven’t guessed, the little girl in this story is, none other than, my little madam. And the mum, standing behind the pusher, is ME! Now that’s what I call Karma!
And, just to further reinforce my belief in Karma, just the other morning little madam threw up all over me. Of course, I was concerned about her wellbeing at the time because she's not sick all that often, and the Karma thing didn't occur to me immediately. It wasn't until later in the day, after I'd relayed that morning's incident to my wonderful sister, that I was reminded me of the following scenario that took place many years ago (sorry, mum...I just never get tired of laughing about this one!). We, my sister, brother and I - along with some overnight bags, and a sleeping bag or two - were crammed into the back of a Mitsubishi Express Van on a long and exhausting journey to visit my aunty, uncle and cousin in the small town – well, it was back then - of Horsham. We must have been about halfway there, when the beginnings of a tummy bug began to bite me. I only have one clear memory of this experience. It was the memory of me relaying my sudden stomach discomfort to my mum (who was sitting directly ahead of me in the front bench-seat of the van, and probably trying her best to use the journey to take some time-out, from her three constantly quarrelling children, by having a short snooze) - in a rather whingy, whiney voice, I might add – with a, "Mum....I feel sick." Without even turning around, my mum’s response – before I violently vomited the entire contents of my lunch (it was salami and gherkin sandwiches on rye bread that day...something I wasn’t able to go near for years after this incident) over almost the entire back of the van, including all over my sister and one of the sleeping bags (which had no hope of being saved and had to be ditched on the side of the road – that’s the sleeping bag, not my sister, by the way) – was, “Tough!”
Now, before these incidences occurred – the incident at Federation Square that caused me to cringe and turn redder than the flesh of an over-ripe tomato, thanks to little madam’s innocent, yet extremely embarrassing, comment, and the incident that resulted in me being covered in vomit – I already believed in Karma, despite the fact that I’m no Buddhist. But I thought I’d already been paid back for my behaviour in other ways; such as having to deal with my own, near-impossible to control, middle-age-spread. I honestly believed that the reason I'm a little on the plump side (and have been for a large chunk of my life) was because I loudly, and very rudely, made fun of a fat person when I was little. But now I know otherwise. This fact in itself (the fact that I now realise that Karma has paid me back in an almost identical way on these TWO occasions - and probably many more if I put my mind to it), makes me shudder with dread as I picture myself, not only as a young child but also, as a teenager. Not just an ordinary teenage, mind you. A horrible, revolting, rebellious teenager that couldn’t give a fat rat’s backside about anyone but herself. Now I look at my beautiful daughter, my sweet innocent little madam, and wonder if it could be possible for her to become like me one day (the horrible rebellious teenager who didn’t give a fat rat’s backside about anyone but herself – and who, no doubt, caused her poor parents a fair amount of angst and turmoil during those terrible teenage years). And then I experience an incident like I did that day at Federation Square - or witness little madam’s true personality (the personality that makes me realise that there is no such thing as the “terrible two’s”; it’s the “terrible three’s" you really have to watch out for - and I'm reminded, without a shadow of a doubt, that what goes around, most certainly comes around.
Thanks, little madam, for making me realise that Karma has only just begun to rear its awful head. I'm sure Aunty Kerri really appreciates the payback on her behalf, too. Love you!
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