They're Breaking My Balls

"All I have in this world is my balls and my word, and I don't break 'em for no one, you understand?" - Scarface 18" Talking Action Figure

How many times a day do I hear these phrases in Italian?!...”rompere le palle”, “non ha bbufa’ i pall” (in napolitano), "le mie palle sono piene"…which translate to “they break my balls”, “don’t inflate my balls”, “my balls are full”…yes, Italian men are a bit obsessed with their balls and like to say this often, especially in response to their wives, mothers, etc. when the women are trying to get the men off their lazy asses to do something. I understand this very well, witnessing Greek men in Greece and in my own family who respond in the same manner. And the women, with good reason, get so frustrated by this response. My friend Melissa - who is American and lives here as well - gets very offended by this expression with her own husband. I understand her frustration, but I also respond like a good-ole American gal when Mimmo says this by saying “ uh yeah, don’t break MY balls!”…I’ve really co-opted this male expression lately because in being la sposa, there sure are a lot of people who are breaking my balls…

Teresa. My sister-in-law. God bless her and god bless the fact that I can write about all of this in English and who cares if nobody reads it ‘cuz I just gotta LET IT OUT…Yes, Teresa, my very sweet (really, truly, usually) sister-in-law is really, truly breaking my balls right now. It started with our idea to have our reception at Emilio’s restaurant, Baia.

Teresa had a very serious discussion with me last week that began with the statement “Lisa, I have something a bit difficult and perhaps a bit indiscreet to say..” , “Ok.”, “My parents are really not happy about Emilio’s”. She went on to tell me that Mimmo’s parents want to make a “bella figura” (good impression); how Mimmo’s 25 aunts and uncles who are all elderly won’t be comfortable there; that the weather might be awful in Sept. and where will we all sit?; that the food isn’t that great (NOT TRUE) and Emilio can be rude. She went on to show me video footage from a party that she went to there in May and “look how cramped we were and we were only 18!” and then proceeded to show me video footage from the twins’ first communion last year at Chiar’ di Luna and “look how beautiful it was there and look how much space there was”. She repeatedly told me that if this was just our family, it would be no big deal; that she was acting as an intermediary for her parents who couldn’t express this to me; that I was the only one who could convince Mimmo to change it, etc…

I really listened to Teresa and really took to heart what she said. Even though it was a bit of a bubble-burst – Emilio’s being both Mimmo & I’s dream place – I truly didn’t want her parents to feel bad. I truly didn’t want her elderly aunts and uncles to be uncomfortable. I truly didn’t want anyone to feel discomfort on such a joyous occasion. And, ok, her footage of Chiar’ di Luna was convincing. I even asked her if I could borrow it to show Mimmo. I left Teresa’s house convinced that ok, as much as we wanted Emilio’s, it seemed better all around for everyone to do it at Chiar’ di Luna. I found Mimmo in the piazza and told him my feelings on the situation. He was noticibly upset “She really has you convinced, huh?,” I pleaded Teresa’s case and, in the end had Mimmo pretty much convinced as well.

I went to Mimmo’s mom’s house after and was all set to tell her about our change, surprise her with the good news, and bring a smile to his 70-year-old mother’s face. “Gilda, we’ve decided to not have the reception at Emilio’s, but Chiar’ di Luna,”. I was awaiting the big sigh of relief and huge hug and instead heard the words “What?! Why?! Do you know HOW expensive Chiar’ di Luna is. And, the food isn’t even GOOD there.” Mimmo shortly after came to his mom’s, I explained to him (VERY confused) the situation. Mimmo put his foot down and said “THAT’S IT. We’re doing it at Emilio’s and I don’t wanna hear anything more about it,”. His mom leaned over to me and whispered “Better to do it at Giovanni’s (Mimmo’s cousin’s restaurant) than Chiar’ di Luna,”.

OH, mammamia, how much are they breaking my balls?!?!