Monday, March 31, 2014

Comfort Zones


It was almost April and my mother hadn’t seen Blair’s dorm room, sorority house, or any other points of interest at her new home away from home and since those are things that grandmothers ought to see, she and I headed out for a visit on Saturday. 
Anticipating our coming, Blair sent an extensive list of items that she needed us to bring.  Before we left, I ran to the mall to get a couple of things for her and, while I was there, I remembered that I had one of those “Free Panty” cards from Victoria Secret in my purse.  If they’re respectable enough, I redeem those for Blair because, well, they all look like one big, incessant wedgie to me.  Anytime I use my coupon for the free body spray or panty, I always feel so conspicuous walking around the mall with my pink, striped bag.  You know what though……when you’re 45.999 years old and carrying a little Victoria Secret bag through crowds of young shoppers at the mall, you should walk with your head held high and carry it like you mean it.  Like a boss.  Don’t you worry about what those youngsters are whispering or that they are feeling sick to their flat stomachs, imagining your muffin top hanging over whatever is under that pink tissue.  Don’t be intimidated by their wincing.  You know you could pull it off if you wanted to…..it’s just that now you prefer undergarments that could double as Ma Ingalls’ nightcap…and you’re ok with that.         
My pink bag and I, then, scooted over to Dillard’s to see what I could find in there.  I bought four items for myself…..one was black, one was green, and the other two were cream.   Blair gives me a hard time about my clothing color preferences and, as I stood in line at the register, I could hear her voice in my head, “Mom, there are so many beautiful colors and this is what you chose?” While she enjoys turning heads with eye catching yellows, pinks, and purples, I feel most comfortable in the colors that occur naturally…..in swamps and creek beds.  I am most at ease in black, brown, green, navy, and burnt shades of red.   While some prefer to stand out like traffic cones and fire hydrants, others of us want to look like we’re part of the landscape….you know… like mulch.  We don't want to be totally invisible, but we don't want to sound any alarms either.             
Of course, while visiting with Blair, we, inevitably, shopped.  When she and I shop together, she tries to suggest fuchsia and yellow and aqua for me and I just can’t go there.  I try them on and I feel like a plastic Easter egg….or a Skittle.  Saturday was no exception.  Blair was drawn to the brightest dresses in the stores…..like steel to a magnet as she’d squeal, “Oh, Mom….this would be so beautiful on you!”  When I grimaced and wrinkled my nose, she'd assure me, sarcastically, that she was sure they could special order it in black or brown. Meanwhile, she was trying on hot pink, floppy hats and admiring patterned dresses that were so bright, they could be sent up in lieu of emergency flares. 
I feel sure when I pass on and Blair finally has complete control over my wardrobe, she’s going to have a blast.  If you come through my visitation line, look to find me laid out looking like a Las Vegas showgirl.   Blair may even bring rolling racks of clothes in and close the line down every half hour for wardrobe changes……wrestling me into one bright, garish getup after another, so come prepared to wait.  She’ll only have a small window of time when she can select my outfits without any objection and I suspect that she’ll make the most of it.  Expect to see brightly colored hats with feathers, red lipstick, and dresses encrusted with jewels and accessorized with big, honking earrings.  I will spend eternity looking like Liberace and Gsa Gsa Gabor all rolled up into one.  I’ll wear a name tag so you can recognize me on the other side.
Anyway, we had a nice time Saturday.  We ate.  We shopped.  We toured. We ate.  We were introduced.  We ate.  Three generations of women….some dressed more brightly than others…. all enjoying the day together.  It was nice.
   

10 comments:

  1. My daughter is just 8 months old and this post just makes me look forward (but not rush) the days when we can have shopping days together. Those are some of my favorite memories from my teenage years with my Mom. WE would be gone the whole day shopping, running errands, eating out....it was so fun! I still have my Mom but life is so busy that we don't get to do those days much anymore.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I completely understand the busy thing! We're all too busy to get together like we should! You'll have a blast when your daughter gets old enough to take on shopping trips! It'll be here before you know it, too. :)

      Delete
  2. This post made me smile....so wonderful to have three generations together and to read about it with such humor!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Welcome to blogland! What took you so long? :) I have to say that this has quickly become one of my favorite blogs. I so enjoy your humor, and it brings back sweet memories of living in the south. I'm a born and bred Yankee, through and through, but have lived in GA, TX, TN and SC. There is much I appreciate (and miss) about the south and just love to read your stories.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well, bless your heart, Deanne! A Yankee, who loves the South, is my favorite kind of Yankee! Hee Hee. :) Thank you so much for your kind words! I really appreciate that.

      Delete
  4. I have an 18 year old and I always feel so good when I wear anything that garners a compliment from her. I hear you on the darker, muted colors. She once called my outfit a khaki mess in the exasperated way teenage girls can talk!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Haha.....oh, that sounds just like something Blair would say!! ....and yes, I'm familiar with the exasperated tone, too :)

      Delete
  5. You are a hoot! Keep blogging.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for the encouragement, Dee!

      Delete