When I was in high school and dressed for a date with a bit too much
decolletage and my dad saw me he would put the back of his hand up to
his eyes and say, "Good Lord, Squirt, dim those headlights!" and I would
realize I was overdoing it and go back upstairs and change into
something more modest.
When
the same situation occurred and my mom saw me, she would say, "And just
where, young lady, do you think you are going dressed like that?" I
would sass her, and she would order me to march back to my room and
change into something that didn't make me look like a street walker and I
would sass her again and she would inform me that I was not leaving the
house dressed like that and if I didn't change right this instant I
would be grounded until I was 35. So, grumbling, I would change into
some baggy old yard-work clothes and go sulk in the kitchen. When she
saw me, she would shake her head, stare at me for a few seconds and then
start laughing. I would realize I was being a jerk and go change into
something sensible.
Did I eventually learn to dress to pass
inspection from the get-go? Umm...what I learned was to stuff what I
really wanted to wear into a big purse and change from my dowdy granny
dress in the ladies room at my destination. That only lasted until my mother grew suspicious about me always carrying a big purse and took a look inside. Hoo boy. Grounded.
What can I
say? I was a teenager and boy crazy.
My grandmother told me
when I sought out her sympathetic ear that my mother had behaved the
same way when she was a teen and she was just trying to see that I
didn't make the same mistakes she did. I guess I understood, but that
didn't prevent me from making the same mistakes. I suppose when my
mini-me becomes a teenager we will repeat the same ritual.
So why did I immediately obey my father but resist my mother? You don't know?
