Because my mom's trying to figure out her role in life (roll your eyes with me) now that her only child will soon be someone's wife, she feels the need to buy me lots of stuff. I'm not adverse to this idea at all...it kind of reminds me of the shopping sprees that I would rope her into when my dad was still alive and we'd have to sneak bags into the house over the course of a week from the trunk so we wouldn't have to take our precious bounty back to the mall.

I need clothes. Particularly summer clothes--because to be honest folks? Every summer I've been known to wear a bikini, boxers, tank tops and tshirts...because I don't really have to go anywhere but the pool deck. When I go out, I wear jeans. Shorts are not part of my repetoire. Sundresses used to be, but I haven't found any I've liked in a long while. With Vegas sparkling on the horizon, I needed to do something quickly, because otherwise my husband was going to be walking around with my bum self, in his boxers...probably not the best look...and it's never good when newlyweds are embarassed to be seen in public with each other--he'll have to save that for the Menopausal years when I'll take to ripping my shirt off in public to fan myself from the hot flashes while saying, "Lawd a'mercy, I'ma burning up Johnny!" That's when he's allowed to be embarassed of me...one for adopting an accent and two, for the whole clothes ripping thing.

And though my mom offered to buy me new sandals, new dresses, new anythings...I found nothing. If I found something, it wasn't in my size, or was only available in Baby Poop Green. So I got frustrated, looked the gift horse in the mouth (my mom), and said, "Let's just go home and read books" (because I'm a dork, yo). And her mouth dropped and said, "But what are you going to do?? You can't run around naked the whole time you're in Vegas!!"
"The hell I can't!" as I stormed out of the mall and into my mother's car.