Dawning of the eyes

I got the misfortune of speaking with dear old mom this afternoon. Like my life is not complicated enough; I get her drama thrown in. Oh well. Anyway after the phone got passed from my aunt to my daughter, all the sudden Molly is shoving the phone in my face and yelling that my mother wants to speak to me. Grrr. I am like two steps from walking into a shoe store; do I really want to talk to Ma right now?? NO! She asks what I am doing and I tell her that I am buying her sister a pair of shoes and that I am going to look for ANOTHER pair for myself seeing I am too fucking stupid to wear even a two inch pump. WHAT? She asks. She is apparently thrown off by the distress in my voice. So I tell her and I am going to tell you all what happened.

I am short. Not by choice, just I didn't get the damn genes everyone else in the family got. Life would be so much less painful if I had! I decided to wear these F**KING high heeled flip flops this morning. See it is by choice so the only person I can get mad at is MYSELF and my 36 years of being short. When I do my hair and make up I leave the cabinet door half open so that I get even light. Simple. Easy. No brainer. Or so we think. When I was done, I threw my make up into it's cubby and shut the cabinet door. Only I FAILED TO REALIZE MY FACE WAS IN THE WAY and slammed the oak door into my upper lip. These events occurring in that order made me howl and cuss and get a fat lip. I also deposited the shoes into the garbage and put on a pair of comphy (well worn out about to fall apart) flats.

So, what does dear ol' Ma have to say?

"That reminds me of the time you shut your boob in the cash register drawer at Hot Shops. Do you remember that?"

And I am taken aback. I am stunned. To myself I think…No, I don't remember the single most painful day of my life, MA. Do you guys want that story? I am game to tell ya, just give me a yay or nay on the comments. The memory is there, fresh and I am willing to spill the beans.

So, there must have been an ounce of horror on my face. My aunt look at me real funny, Molly ran, and the store clerk put her hand on my shoulder. She asked me if I was alright. And I am thinking no lady, I would rather re-live natural child birth, I would rather have a root cannel with not novocane, I would rather drop a brick on my toe; then open my mind to the horrors of this memory but I nodded my head in assurance that I was ok and told my mom I had to go.