Mom's Favorite Pastimes

Every once and a while, when she isn't sufficiently busy with the three B's that tend to occupy most of her time (Bunko, Bookclub, and Botox) (Note: She hasn't actually ever gotten botox yet, but CONSIDERING getting botox is like, her full time hobby. There's always a new pamphlet to read.), anyway, when she isn't busy with those three things she will barge into my room and say:

"Earlene! Enough! I can't stand it anymore! You can't LIVE like this! We are going to have a GIRLS DAY!"

Now, having a girls day, like, a real girls day, is really appealing to me, and someday if Hiroko ever makes good on her offer to come visit from Japan, I hope to spend an entire day eating yogurt (girls love yogurt) and getting those cute acrilyic nails with the palm trees on them.

But the thought of eating yogurt with my mom and listening to her go on and on about her friends' sex lives, which she does not for a minute pause to think might be uncomfortable for me, is really just a whole new level of hell.  So I usually just say no, and then my mom will beg, and then I will say no, and then she will say "but it would make me so happy!" and then I say no, and then she says "we can stop at GameStop on the way home", and then I reluctantly agree.

The first stop is usually to the Clinique counter, where Martha, who I'm pretty sure is blind, has been doing my mom's makeup for the past 20 years. Martha and her Coworkers always get really excited when I come in and all gather around and inspect me face and argue about whether I am spring or a fall colored person (??) and then dab like an inch of makeup on me and I always look pretty much the same. And then they just stare at me, sort of puzzled and say things like "Hmm.....well. Maybe next time we should go for the 312 Foundation instead of the 311, maybe that's it." and "Don't worry, we'll crack it next time!" to my mom.

Today, in the car driving to the hair salon (the second part of my semi-annual "makeover) my mom tried to convince me of the importance of regular hair and makeup appointments.

Mom: It's just, it's part of life, Early, it's part of what a woman does, I mean, don't you want people to stop calling you names?

ME: People don't call me names.......

Mom: Oh. Well. Good. *turns up radio*

Then we got to the hair salon and Mom and Marco (born in Dallas, TX, fyi...) decide that it will be super fun if they turn my chair away from the mirror so I don't see the results until the end. Whoopee. Then Marco attacks my hair like a whirling dirvish and talks about how magnifico I look and keeps kissing his fingers and stuff.

Well, here's the before and after.

I mean, obviously I look good, but let's not exxagerate, it's not the freaking Princess Diaries.

Anyway, Mom usually doesn't talk on the drive home, and then doesnt suggest another makeover for at least six months or so.

Which is fine by me.