A conversation with my mother
This is my mom Linea.
To answer your question…yes. She always looks glamorous and no, she was not wearing a giant floppy beach hat for an impromptu Kentucky Derby party. This is typical accessorizing on a Tuesday afternoon for Linea.
She loves hats, sunglasses, earrings, scarves, belts, purses, necklaces and any kind of hair flair that exists. Let the record show that she was wearing feathers about a year before feathers became the thing. She’s not afraid of fashion. Need proof?
To answer your question…no. No, my parents do not live in the Arctic. I believe this particular morning, the East Texas temperature dropped to a frigid 68 degrees. Daddy and I were fishing and invited Mama to join us. This is how she showed up. Along with a Diet Coke, snacks and a blanket. The picture was taken after she ditched the sweater coat and what you can’t see are her brightly colored rain boots. That flannel shirt and Eskimo hat were soon discarded as well. We were left with Mama fishing in her grey Victoria’s Secret night gown that was purchased as a Christmas present for her when I was in college.
Mother is notorious for never throwing anything away. I can confirm that she still owns tube tops from the 70s and once was caught sun bathing in an old drill team leotard of mine because she couldn’t find her own swim suit. My sister Jamie and I have tried intervening on several occasions. Sometimes we are successful. Sometimes we are not. This is a recent conversation about a time when we were not.
Me: “Hi Mama! What are you doing?”
Mama (laughing): “Why? Did Jamie call you and tell you what happened?”
Me: “No. What happened?”
Mama: “Well…it all started when I couldn’t find my scrunchie…”
Me: “Wait…you’re what?”
Mama: “You know. My hair scrunchie. So, I was sitting at the table when I heard…”
Me: “I’m sorry Mother. I’m going to have to stop you. Just so I get this straight, you have lost a hair scrunchie? Like what we used to wear in our hair in the 80s? That kind of hair scrunchie?”
Mama: “Yes. So I was sitting at the table…”
Me: “Wait. I need to understand. Where did you get a scrunchie?”
Mama: “From one of the drawers in the upstairs bathroom.”
Me: “Okay. Assuming you found it in the plastic baggie where I kept my old sponge rollers and Bobcat cheerleading bows, it’s highly possible that this scrunchie is more than 20 years old.”
Mama: “You’re probably right.”
Me: “Mother? Why are you wearing a scrunchie? Please tell me it’s because you used it to pull back your hair when you take off your makeup at night.”
Mama: “I’ve been wearing the scrunchie for several months. In a low side pony tail. I don’t know what the big deal is? Let me finish telling my story!”
Me: “No. No, no, no, no, no. Woman…you can NOT wear a hair scrunchie in public again. Are you listening to me? STEP AWAY FROM THE HAIR SCRUNCHIE.”
Mama: “Well if it’s so bad, why did you still have it upstairs in the drawer? Why didn’t you just throw it away?”
Me: “Because I may need it during an 80s-themed party or if I ever dress up like that chick from Napoleon Dynamite, okay? Seriously Mama. There are so many cute ways to pull your hair up now. Don’t settle for the scrunchie.”
Mama (irritated): “SO THERE I WAS, sitting at the table, when I heard this weird coughing sound coming from the dog. I knew he was about to throw up, so I was trying to usher him out the door. And then I saw this horrible black thing coming out of his mouth! It was my scrunchie! Creede hacked up my scrunchie!”
I pulled my car off to the side of the road so I could properly laugh. For about 10 minutes. Mother was explaining in great detail the rest of the story, but I missed most of it so I could wipe the running mascara from my eyes.
Me: “Wow. Even the dog knew it was uncool for you to be wearing a hair scrunchie, so he took matters into his own hands. Did you wash the scrunchie so you could use it again?”
Mama: “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Of course I didn’t. I threw it away. Besides, I still have a gold lamé one that I wear when I’m feeling fancy.”