Sometimes I feel more like my grandmother’s daughter than my mother’s child. My mom is all sugar and spice and everything nice, while my grandmother and I are a little more on the spicy side. As my mom says, I am my grandmother’s ‘golden child’ who ‘can do no wrong’. Grandma is a good judge of character.
I like to use this close bond I have with my grandmother to push my mother’s patience (and sanity) to the edge. When I was younger, I used to call my grandmother and tell her that my mom wasn’t feeding me properly, in my most pitiful voice. By ‘properly’, I meant not fixing exactly what I demanded when I demanded it. My grandmother would then lecture my mom on the necessity of good nutrition and tell me that if I was ever hungry I could come to her house for a hot meal.
As I have matured, I’ve come up with new ways to use my grandmother’s comedic genius for evil. My grandmother has recently started telling me when I come to visit that she’s ‘not wearing a bra today’. Apparently, they are useless after the age of 75. I decided that this is definitely something I can use in my quest to embarrass my mother as much as humanly possible. Hey, don’t blame me, maybe my mom should have thought twice before she slid in the mud, fully clothed, at the half-time of my soccer game when I was 13.
So, now when we are about to go out for a nice family meal (to one of the three restaurants my grandmother agrees to eat at) I tell my grandmother to tell my mom that’s she is not wearing a bra to dinner because it’s just ‘too restrictive’. Talk about a winner. I’ll have to try and capture my mom’s reaction next time. But, trust me, it’s priceless.
When you’re 78 years old undergarments are optional. Hell, you’ve earned it.
Bling Bling Ya'll 