I’m going to sound terrible for saying this, but my mother was a horrible dresser. And it wasn’t that she didn’t wear designer duds….I didn’t care about that. It was bad ‘mom’ attire. Of all her outfits however, this particular one stands out in my mind…
When I was younger I was usually picked up from school because I had this or that rehearsal, flute lessons, on and on. One day I was waiting at my school for pick up when this woman I can only best describe as a freak approached me…and it was my mother. Apparently she had decided at some point during my school day, that nude hose with khaki pleated shorts and sandals made a nice substitute for time in the sun.
I was mortified as she strolled up the buildings double doors. Even worse was I think she thought the new ‘tanned’ look actually made her hot. Was she serious? I detected a strut in her gait. You know, kind of ‘kicking’ her lower leg from the knee in an exaggerated way to suggest, “Hey, check these gams out! Don’t be jealous now!” Even flipped her hair a little as though she found herself a one-way ticket to cougar town.
As I gave her the elevator eyes of shame, she darted me a dirty look and proceeded to sign me out with the school’s office. I know she noticed my expression but chose to ignore it, opting instead to bask her newly found tanned glory.
I started to laugh to myself as I thought of her getting dressed that day. Did she stroll past a mirror and think, “Hmmmm. Legs are lookin’ a tad white today…what to do…what to do”…Did she walk up to her dresser to find an outfit that would cover her white pillars but then had an “Ah Ha!” moment as she held up a pair of crumpled L’eggs hosiery?
I pictured the hose being held in the air, wrinkled from being balled up in the drawer, almost resembling burnt bacon as she held them up…pondering....thinking. Or was it by chance she forgot to remove the hose as she tried on outfits, slipped on the khaki shorts, initially said to herself, “Damn!”…paused, took a second look at herself and then thought “Hot DAAAAAMMN!!” as she realized her fashion discovery.
In any case, I couldn’t hold my tongue. As I entered the car I asked if she visited Bermuda while I was at school that day. She acted pretty coy, as though she feared her fantastically nylon induced tan cover was about to be blown. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked. I replied, “Because if you did, you forgot a little spot with tanning lotion. See? Right. There…”
I was pointing to a 10 inch runner…..