This weekend my mom told me that it’s “time” for me to settle down with “a short bald rich guy.” What if he’s 5’10”? That’s fine, but he MUST be rich. In all fairness, she only wants happiness and security for me, AND believes that short bald men make better husbands.
This picture of me and my mom hails from 1977. Why are we standing to the side? The picture seems to be really about the path that leads to the avocado green Datsun which belonged to my Grandmother who happens to be taking the picture. She had a refrigerator of the same color.
I’m loving my mom’s outfit. She was a librarian. No! Yes, really. The collar pulls it all together. I look like I was dressed by a doll manufacturing company. I remember buying that yellow dress with my grandmother.
I don’t know why I look so pissed in the picture. Every other picture of me in my childhood I’m in some Madonna or Lady Gaga vamp pose with a wig on. No, but here on this day I played Good Girl. I think we were going to church and I was following orders.
My mother is taking potential husband applications. Receding hairlines need not apply.
Just for today, I love chillin’ with my mom.