Mom: It doesn't work. That blouse and jacket just don't go together.
A.: Enough, mom.
Mom: Can't I state my opinion?
A.: I got your opinion the first ten times.
Mom: I just said it.
A.: You said it this morning, too.
Mom: No, that was about the fit. Now I noticed that the colors don't go.
***
This morning
Mom: Why don't I find you something more presentable to wear?
A.: I'm wearing this, let it go.
Mom: My dear, I was thin once, too. As your grandmother would say, 'eto nye kotlyeti a lyeti.' [Translation: It's not the cutlets, it's the years.]
I did not say, "I was thin(ner) last week, and I'll be thin again in two." And even more so in ten. I have no intention of threatening the endangered species around which I will be snorkeling with the gravitational pull of my stomach, if that's her concern.
Mom: Oh, and your hair is like Hagrid's.
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1 comment:
Here's my theory: You are secretly actually a comedic genius who has invented this lovable, eccentric, annoying, tragic character of your mother so you can write this blog.
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