Twisted Mother’s Ass

When my sister called she informed me the first thing Mom said to her this morning was: 

“I didn’t even hear from Pam on Mother’s Day!”

I sent her an e-mail on her birthday March 6th.  Two years ago I did nothing for her birthday but sent flowers on Mother’s Day.  By skipping Mother’s Day this year I keep her on her toes.  It’s a wonderfully arbitrary method.

Granted, I do hold a grudge like a bitch with a bone.  I accept that about myself.

But what I’m really writing about is this:

Little sis told me that over the weekend Mom mentioned something didn’t feel right.  There in the middle of the office, with no advance warning, she pulled her pants down and showed my sister her ass (which I think was incredibly selfish considering the potential for blindness factor).

As it turns out,

SHE WAS SUNBURNED!

Yes, unbelievably, Mom had crawled into the tanning bed and burnt her ass.

As if that wasn’t bad enough,

she then exposed her enormous belly and said,

“But this part isn’t!”

* * * * *

There have long been issues with Mom’s desire to share information we don’t want to hear AND her propensity for poor hygiene.  I did not want to hear about the pain she experienced during treatment for vaginal warts.  Call me insensitive.

I’ve already blocked it, but Lil’ Sis remembers her telling us on the ferry from NYC two years ago, “I’ve always been sexually satisfied with your step-father, every single time!”  I might have been yelling too loud to take it all in, as my psyche shattered, like that famous picture “The Scream.”

Some of you may remember that I was unsettled when she continuously picked her nose and flicked it onto the floor in my car during a hell-a-tiously long day on the Outer Banks 18 months ago. 

I’d forgotten that detail until my sister and her lover mentioned it during the Kentucky trip.  They mentioned it because they had a new story along the same old lines to add.

When we were teenagers we got yelled at for daily bathing & overuse of shampoo.  If Mom bathes once a week now, it’s tantamount to a happy dance.  FDS feminine hygiene spray was created with a woman like her in mind.  She is living proof that all jokes comparing women to fish are based in fact.

My sister was at work with Mom when she saw her reach down and run her fingers across the vaginal area of her pants, then bring her hand to her nose and smell it.  She looked at my sister, laughed and said, “Oh, I think I need a bath, I don’t smell so good!”

* * * * *

If only I was making this up.

When I take note of Cindy Adams column on Mother’s Day in The New York Post I stick out my tongue & turn the page. 

So she had a great mother!  Stop bragging already!

All mothers are NOT created equal, so I hibernate on the one weekend of the year when it’s impossible to avoid the constant inferences to mothers as earth angels.  It’s bad enough that every other day of the year fathers play second banana, and I include Father’s Day in the mix.  Do they ever REALLY get the same kind of accolades or fabulous gifts?

Someone ought to be in very big trouble for naming my mother MARY.

Maybe it’s the false advertising that bothers me the most.  There are just so many possibilities to choose from, plus the fact that my whining is incredibly annoying even to me.

Fuckin’ holidays.

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