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My mother has really developed a big love for shopping in the last few years.  It’s not quite what I would call “Retail Therapy”, but it IS what you might call a “hobby”.  More likely it’s a social activity.  She is out shopping with someone – me, my sis, my aunt, my grandmother – every week.  Not that I’m complaining.  If we are shopping together, she usually offers to pay.  I am not the brightest bulb, but whenever someone wants to buy clothes for me or my kiddos, I’m all for it!

Which is why I should be ashamed for what I said to her….

First my disclaimer.  My Mama is a bit of a throwback hippy chick.  She was busy being a newlywed and having babies during Woodstock, but that woman loves flouncy sleeves and gauzy shirts and tiered skirts.  Back “in the day”, she was super fine hottie in her blue velvet jumpsuit.  Flash forward 40-something years.

“Is this blouse too youthful for me?” she asks as we browse the JUNIORS section at Kohl’s.

“It’s really pretty.”

“But is it too YOUNG LOOKING for a middle-aged woman?”

“Um. Mom?  You aren’t middle-aged.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mother, I am 44.  Supposing I live as long as Nana (which is well past the national average), I am middle-aged.  And I wouldn’t wear that blouse.”

[Indignant gasp]

“Seriously Mama.  How did 67 become ‘middle-aged’?  Unless you expect to celebrate your 134th birthday I’d have to say you might actually qualify as old.”



[Name calling]

The blouse went back on the rack.  Thank God.

I do love shopping with that woman.  Even when she doesn’t pay.