Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Before You Wreck Yourself

"Oh my god MOM!" This, from Morgan when I walked into the room.
Camel toe like a mo-fo.
“What? ” I looked down, “ I mean. Can you please not say Camel toe like a mofo? Show some respect". 
You better chiggity check yourself.
Is it --? (sigh) I thought I looked good.
From the back and 100 feet away.
Come on.
Mom, you’re supposed to wear them down on your hips.
But then my belly shows and I look like a sad old bag mourning my youth.
Stop fishing for compliments.
I'm not.
I‘m going to the gym, not to a hula contest.
Good one, Mom. Fix your pants. Let's go.
I started laughing, “I don’t even know what a hula contest is. But I am definitely not going to one." I couldn't stop laughing. I had to brace my hand on the side of the couch. I couldn't stop.


In the mall I am walking behind my younger children, totally distracted and confused by everything. I feel like a retarded cousin.
"MOM!" this, from Darla, who at 15, is the sniper of the bunch. "You can't say retarded!"
It means SLOW. I'm slow! Jesus.
It's offensive.
And I said it in my head anyway, to myself.
You're mumbling.
"I absolutely was not mumbling." She lets it drop and then I start to question myself. I look ahead and Darla and Harry have their heads together giggling and whispering at my expense. It's strange to realize that you are being watched by the people you thought you were watching.

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