"Not to be rude or anything..."

If it's a day ending in "y," you know I'm in the doghouse with somebody.
The criticism has been coming for so long that I've learned to tune most of it out.
"Rachel, you talk too much."
"Rachel, you shouldn't wear socks that match your shirt AND your scrunchie. Shop at Wet Seal."
"Rachel, you just missed your last chance at happiness by not marrying that mute with the mole on his neck. Sure, you'd have to live out on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, where the thrill of your day would be shoveling cow manure, and you'd soon lose your mind, but at least you wouldn't be alone."
"Rachel, please stop sending money to accounts in the Caribbean." Oops, wait. That one wasn't me.
But you know, when you try to give people what they want, they find they a) don't like the results after all or b) are all too happy to give you a new set of critiques and instructions.
"Wow, I've never heard Rachel be this quiet before. Rachel, stop trying to see how many cherry stems you can tie with your tongue and validate my point!"
"Rachel, could you please stop all the mismatching? Your gypsy garb is so last year."
"Rachel, when are you having babies? Don't you dare name your kids Reagan, Elaine Fairchild, Jemima or Jude, or they'll be scarred for life. Maybe because you're too lame to get married, you could adopt?"
Darned if I do, darned if I don't. Sometimes some body's mad at me and I don't even realize it, and then they get all huffy and demonstrative because I haven't paid enough attention to their tirades. "Don't you get that I'm mad at you? You didn't? Well, just for that, I'm going to have a party and have my mom call your mom to let you guys know that you aren't invited."
I've been accused of a lot of things, and been guilty of many of them, whether intentional or not.
"Rachel, you're always trying to steal all the men." (Not Guilty)
"Rachel, you're too divisive." (Guilty)
"Rachel, you won't go out with me so I hate your guts." (Guilty)
"Rachel, you are single-handedly causing global warming because of your insane carbon footprint." (Not that guilty-- I carpool and recycle and reuse as much as possible)
"Rachel, I can't believe you haven't done more to plan my wedding/take care of my child/feed me a delicious meal and then clean everything up by yourself/called someone stupid because they were acting like it." (Guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty, but do I really even care?)
One time I cut a friend out for her criticisms. Usually, I'm pretty good about letting things roll off my back, but I think I'd just had it. I told her about an upcoming work/social event I was going to, and how I was excited to have a date with a boy I'd crushed on for years. She offered to go shopping with me, and suggested some places I might go. I told her I wasn't really interested in those stores, because I thought their clothes were too small (read: immodest). She said, "Can't you even wear a size...?" and I dropped her like a hot potato. I just stopped taking her calls. The negativity was too taxing.
Not that I don't appreciate true friends helping me with course corrections here and there. Sometimes, even though it's unpleasant, it's good to hear.
"Rachel, I feel like when you said this to that man in the folk art store, you introduced a little hostility into the conversation. While I know and love you now, when we first met, I thought you were a little intimidating or overwhelming."
"Rachel, maybe you should take a break. Not only does the world not revolve around you, but also it does not depend on you. Things will not fall apart if you are away for a short period of time. In fact, I doubt people will notice."
"Rachel, stop putting that man on a pedestal. You are in love with an idea of a person who does not exist in reality, and the actual man just isn't into you. Yes, I know that you have so much in common and he'd be lucky to have you, but guess what-- he doesn't want you, so there's really not much point in moping about."
"Rachel, that eye makeup makes you look like Uncle Fester from the Addams Family."
Well, whatever. I'm listening, and it even makes me feel bad. But don't expect a big reaction. When the little girl with the lisp in Brownies once told me "I'm pwetty and yohr nawt" I think I cried. And when the little girl with the prosthetic leg in a play with me in fifth grade said, "My family thinks I should have been the one featured in the newspaper instead of you," I rolled my eyes and bought extra copies of the Albuquerque Journal.