In My Mother’s Words. And, Her Shoes.

I just realized that I’m polishing up this post just in time for Mother’s Day Weekend.

 “You think I can wear this?”  My mother asks, donning matching sweats.

“Wear whatever you want, Ma.  Wait – there’s a spot on it.”
“Oh.”
“Well.  Wear what you want.  Just don’t blame me if you run into somebody you know and feel embarrassed ’cause of what you’re wearing.”
“I’m gonna change.”
“Ok.”

At the movies.

“You’re getting popcorn?  Okay.  Just don’t put all that – cheese – on it.”
When has there ever been
cheese served on popcorn ??!!
“Where are the teenagers?”
“Why is it so crowded?”
“It’s hot in here because there’s too many people in here.”
“Diet Coke?  You should have gotten regular.”

My mother doesn’t go shopping that often.  Everything she dons, from her cardigans and trousers to her Etienne Aigner loafers and satchel handbags, are decades old, she’ll tell you.

But, for some reason, whenever my mother walks into my bedroom (which is a few times every day), she appears with a new pair of pajamas.  They were probably on sale.

Just because you’re twenty-seven years old and visiting your parents, doesn’t mean they won’t keep coming into your room.

Wow.  I underestimated how many instances in a lifetime you could hear your parents call your name.  All I can think each time is, “What now?” “What could there possibly be that you want or need to ask me that we haven’t covered in the past twenty-seven years?”  There should be a button, I think.

“Melissa, come here, quick!”
“What is it, Ma?”
“Look at this guy on TV.  Nice Korean guy.  He’s the guy I keep seeing and thinking, a guy like that would be perfect for you.”
“He’s an actor…well…does he speak English?”
“Maybe.”
Thanks, Ma.

There are new things that my parents say now.  Talking shopping and fashion, for example, is a little bit different.

“Melissa, what do you think of this shirt?”
“I don’t know, it looks fine.”
“Yeah.  I’m gonna keep this until I die.”
Whaaaaat? 

I was going to point out that today’s society with modern medicine (and depleting social security funds) is living longer than ever…but then I just didn’t.

“What’s that on your face?”
“A pimple.”
“Wow.  That’s a big one.”
“Yep.”

“You need to stop dressing like you’re in high school.”
“Ok, Ma.”
“Why don’t you find something more ladylike?”

“What do you think of this skirt, Ma?”
“Looks fun.”
FUN? Say whaaaat?!

Back to those shoes of hers – my mother has a lot of shoes.  She was really into Keds way back when, and now she loves those good ol’ Clarks, Aerosoles, and Naturalizers.

Her collection (because, truth be told, that’s how they should be referred to) is chock full of Enzo Angiolinis and Nine West numbers, Anne Kleins and Bandolinos (pictured).

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