Overwhelming

My parents and I were driving home from the airport this past Saturday.

They were picking me up after another lovely trip to my lovely hometown. 
It was 80 degrees and sunny when I got on the plane.
It was 30 degrees and dreary when I got off the plane.
So we’re driving along and they inform me that
we are having two med students over for dinner.

Here’s the thing- 
I don’t sleep when I’m in Florida.
I was exhausted and the prospect of entertaining
I knew it wasn’t up for discussion because I am living in their house
where they call the shots.
So I decide to employ some positive thinking 
and after gathering more information about our dinner guests I remark,
“Oh, I’m excited to meet these med students.”
My father’s immediate response-
“Please don’t scare them.”
I burst out laughing.
My dad thinks I’m overwhelming.
So overwhelming in fact
that I might scare off two grown-ass men
who are in pursuit of medical degrees.
This should be fun.
Dinner was great.
My mom is a fantastic cook.
I seemed to have missed that set of skills somehow.
I held my own over the course of conversation
but immediately became an absolute non-threat when we hit the pool table.
I am so bad at shooting pool.
Shooting pool and bowling are serious weaknesses of mine.

But the earlier exchange with my dad got me thinking.
Am I overwhelming?
What is overwhelming?
Is there some standard to measure people against as under/over/just plain whelming?
No.
It’s entirely subjective.
You think I’m overwhelming?
That’s fine.
It’s not a good or a bad thing.
And it’s not a permanent thing.
It is what it is.
Take it or leave it.
Or change it.
We choose our own adventure,
wouldn’t you agree?

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