I find that the people who know I use what I use when I use it BEAT ME OVER THE HEAD WITH IT. If I say a silly sentence or if I put a spoon away with the forks, I'm
a pothead even though I'm not high every time I make a mistake. It's just that I can tell by the tone of voices my husband or my grown sons use that I am being brought to task for smoking mj. Those are just two small examples of ways my family expresses disapproval.
Which is fine, because my husband's opinion is as important to him as mine is to me, and he tolerates the smoke but certainly would rather I didn't smoke. Instead of just dropping it already, he waits for occasions as I've sampled above to slap me with that "
You can sure tell you are a pothead."
Conversely, I'm living with my parents right now.
There have been a few occasions since I've been living with my parents and helping my mom out that I've had to interact with my dad while high. I only smoke at night after he goes to bed. He was an undercover narcotics agent when I was growing up and we had a lot of arguments about marijuana when I was a teenager. Now I'm 52 and he still feels that as long as marijuana is illegal under federal law, it's illegal, period, and we should follow the rules because that's all civilization is and if we stop following the rules, anarchy will ensue.
As a result, I act
ubersober if I am high and I have to talk to him about my mom, or work with him because the toilet has overflowed, etc. I go outside and smoke between 10 and 12, after my parents have gone to bed, and if something happens during or shortly after that time and I have to get in sync with my father, I actually surprise myself (and my father!) because I am quick to help and I have suggestions for situations that impress him. When I'm high in my dad's presence, I'm totally aware of every word, every step, every breath I make. I know he's watching me and I know his opinion of marijuana so I become a stronger version of my sober self. I fold king size fitted sheets by myself, quickly and very neatly. I am precise in discussing my mom's health. I have changed my mom's bedding (with her in the bed) and cleaned my mom up in minutes when he is watching me, and me high as a hundred dollar bill. My own change of power surprises me because I have a deeply imbedded need for my dad to see that marijuana does not make me stupid.
If he really knew what else I do he would sever all our ties. He's a hard man at 83 and federal law is still federal law, DAMMIT. Rules have a reason and we all need to follow the rules. I hide everything else I do because it's all bad and fucked up and he would be so fucking offended and hurt if he knew the truly fucked up shit that I do, it might actually kill him.
I just realized that. Last night I should have gone to jail, and it is a complete miracle that the police let me go. I took some hard core risks, broke a few hard core laws, and I suddenly believe it might have killed him if he had seen all that.

Holy Shit.
Yes, I am conscious of preserving my image. In fact I try to
enhance my image when I smoke weed at my parents' house.