melting in my bones...don't I wish.
Aug. 28th, 2002 09:21 amSo...yesterday? No mad casino escapades involving lots of nickels and half price buffets. No sir, instead, I spent the entire day shopping with my mother for back to school things, and clothes.
It's taken me a day to recover.
For those of you who know me, you know that my relationship with my mother is often on par with a National Geographic documentary about tornadoes -- she's a force of nature, she's razing down entire villages in her wake and there's absolutely no warning about when she's going to strike. Can't plant down all the crops and such, for fear of her ripping the topsoil right off.
Ahem. In other words, my life, a microcism of The Joy Luck Club with all the poignant bits taken out. I love my mother, but I often find myself not liking her much -- is that understandable? I know I'm not the easiest daughter to have, but yes -- fraught with tension, my relationship with Mum.
So, shopping for clothes, when my mother is about five sizes smaller than I am, is always a joyous learning experience. Like, for instance, how my body is a Freak of Nature and there's bits that don't fit over my chest but the sleeves are fine and how there's a conspiracy against my hips and thighs, and really, someone hand me the sackcloth and ashes, because I am mourning for my 12 year old self when I was completely flat as a board and could wear damn anything I wanted to. (there were incidents involving a mustard colored sweat suit and a polk dotted skirt and top combo, complete with pink ruffle. Obviously, my keen fashion sense developed late.)
And manufacturers of jeans, when I pick up seven sets of jeans all in the same size, I expect them to fit me, because I am wearing a pair of jeans with said size on, PERFECTLY.
After several hours, I bought three pairs of jeans, a pair of cords, and the only bright spot of my day, white adidas sneakers with shiny aquamarine details.
Shoes. It's the last stand for a girl who can't fit into anything else. But before we go down the stupid self loathing territory, know this! I'm changing my eating habits and *groan* getting some kind of exercise regime. Then sending various angry letters to the garment industry.
Bastards.
In other news,
saturn_girl made my morning. Y'know, thank God for my sense of snark. Or it's all bad poetry from here on out!
It's taken me a day to recover.
For those of you who know me, you know that my relationship with my mother is often on par with a National Geographic documentary about tornadoes -- she's a force of nature, she's razing down entire villages in her wake and there's absolutely no warning about when she's going to strike. Can't plant down all the crops and such, for fear of her ripping the topsoil right off.
Ahem. In other words, my life, a microcism of The Joy Luck Club with all the poignant bits taken out. I love my mother, but I often find myself not liking her much -- is that understandable? I know I'm not the easiest daughter to have, but yes -- fraught with tension, my relationship with Mum.
So, shopping for clothes, when my mother is about five sizes smaller than I am, is always a joyous learning experience. Like, for instance, how my body is a Freak of Nature and there's bits that don't fit over my chest but the sleeves are fine and how there's a conspiracy against my hips and thighs, and really, someone hand me the sackcloth and ashes, because I am mourning for my 12 year old self when I was completely flat as a board and could wear damn anything I wanted to. (there were incidents involving a mustard colored sweat suit and a polk dotted skirt and top combo, complete with pink ruffle. Obviously, my keen fashion sense developed late.)
And manufacturers of jeans, when I pick up seven sets of jeans all in the same size, I expect them to fit me, because I am wearing a pair of jeans with said size on, PERFECTLY.
After several hours, I bought three pairs of jeans, a pair of cords, and the only bright spot of my day, white adidas sneakers with shiny aquamarine details.
Shoes. It's the last stand for a girl who can't fit into anything else. But before we go down the stupid self loathing territory, know this! I'm changing my eating habits and *groan* getting some kind of exercise regime. Then sending various angry letters to the garment industry.
Bastards.
In other news,
saturn_girl made my morning. Y'know, thank God for my sense of snark. Or it's all bad poetry from here on out!
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