My mom is coming to visit me this weekend. This has only happened maybe three times since I moved down from PA to Merryland in 2011, so I figured I should try to make the most of our time. Unfortunately, she’s already turned down my two best ideas:
- Korean bathhouse that makes you get completely naked in front of each other
- Margarita march in DC
The fact that she showed zero interest in either of these activities naturally makes me further question her maternal claims. I spent the whole weekend asking my dad, “why DO I like so much like Uncle Lou?” this past weekend because I’m pretty convinced he and my Aunt Dottie are my real parents. He essentially told me I’m too white to be Uncle Lou’s daughter (Uncle Lou is Puerto Rican).
Speaking of white, I was walking over to the Town Center for 2nd happy hour last Thursday (one apparently isn’t enough anymore and I’m expecting an intervention any day now), when I noticed a young man approaching while singing & listening to his head phones. Now, I’m not sure if these were lyrics to the song or not, but as he walked by, he sang,
“Hey white girl you look fat.” Or maybe it was phat? I’m hoping it was phat.
Anyway, let’s talk about my “mom” some more. My mom’s Facebook exists entirely to embarrass me. Last Christmas, she posted a throwback of me in the third grade. The big problem I have with my third grade picture is that it’s proof that at one point in my life I “rocked” a mullet that would have made Joe Dirt proud. So I did what anyone would do if they that wanted to forget those dark days in Western PA–I deleted AND blocked my mom on Facebook.
Eventually she found her way back on my friend list, just in time to post this gem for my 26th birthday:
So since I’m going to have to wait for the DNA test I just Amazon Primed and for my mom to get here so I can trick her into taking it, I’ve been on the lookout for other proof of my true creators.
Exhibit A–my mom in her mid-20s and me in my mid 20s:
Sidenote, that picture resulted in the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me:
Exhibit B–our outfits of choice for Thanksgiving last year:
Exhibit C–taking to Twitter with our problems because no one else seems to care:
See you soon, mom!
PS: I went to my friend Nina’s place yesterday to see if being 26 means I no longer have aversions to babies:
To be determined, my friends, to be determined.