Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman (9 page)

The man having heard the boy's question turned toward us and removed his finger from his nose. He examined his finger and held it out for the boy to see. "The nose, boy. That's where boogers come from. You better teach that fella 'bout them bodily functions, lady, or he ain't gonna turn out right." He then took his finger and rubbed it on his chest, clutched his beer and left us standing there in a world of disbelief.

The silence was only broken when the young boy turned to his mother and said, "Mommy, that man was gross! I don't wanna learn about bodily functions if I have to do that."

Purple In Polyester — August 3, 2010

I had a job interview today. Shocking, isn't it? When the lady called to set up an interview I thought she had the wrong number. I've sent out dozens of resumes with little or no response.

When a Master's Degree is as common as a Bachelor's Degree these days your resume and cover letter really need to stand out. I went back over both of my documents searching for the magical phrase or well-intended action verb that had caught the HR Manager's eye but came up empty.

There's nothing like short notice to light a fire under somebody's ass and that ass belonged to me. A job interview? Are you kidding? And they want me to come first thing in the morning. Are you kidding me?

Needless to say, I had several activities planned for the day, one of which was a trip to Mom's to pick up the cat and the new cat because I had been hiding up in the Alabama mountains for a few days getting some culture.

I walked into her house and mentioned that I had a job interview and she 'bout fell out of her chair. "Are you kidding?" she said. "Don't blow it. What are you gonna wear? You ain't worn nothing but t-shirts and shorts for the past two years."

That was a problem. I have a whole wardrobe that I haven't seen in about two years now, the pre-quitting smoking wardrobe of nice sweaters, dress shirts and business suits. I do have one outfit on hand; I call it my funeral suit. It's black, wool and extremely hot; not something that needs to be worn in the Georgia summertime heat. "I don't know," I said. "I'll have to pick something up. I do have the funeral suit..."

"Heavens to Betsy, good gracious NO! You are not, I repeat N-O-T wearing the funeral suit. You'll keel over for sure wearing that hot and scratchy thing. I bet I got something in the closet that would be appropriate."

When Mom mentioned that she might have an outfit in the closet for me it sent a little shiver down my spine. Mom has every piece of clothing that she has ever worn dating back to the 70s and most of them involve polyester in one form or another.

Mom started rummaging around and began pulling out one treasure after another. First off was the lime green pants and orange and lemon checked jacket with a faux fur collar. "What about this one? All it needs is a pair of black stilettos and you'll be dressed to impress," she said.

"Well, I'm not sure. You know I don't do well in heels," I replied.

"Yeah, that's right. You spent way too much time in those green Converse high tops of yours."

"Mom, they were my basketball shoes. I better get going if I'm going to pick something up tonight."

"Nonsense, let me see what else I got back here." Next out of the closet was a dark chocolate brown leisure suit that still had the tags on it. It had a white patent leather belt that should be cinched at the waist and there was a small label in one of the pockets that said the outfit would go great with white patent leather shoes. "Holy Toledo!" she exclaimed. "I wondered whatever happened to this suit. Here, try this on.”

Mom handed me the suit and I handed it right back. "It's a size fourteen. I'm a little past that size, remember?"

"Don't you get smart with me, young lady? I'm still your mother and I'm just trying to help."

"I know, Mom, but I don't think there's anything in there that I can wear and my tastes are a little more conservative than yours. The next thing you're gonna pull out is your lucky suit which you said Dad made you get rid of because he said it made you look..."

"Wait! There it is. Oh, my goodness. I thought this was long gone. It's my lucky suit!"

As I watched her standing there flushed with excitement I was transported back to my childhood and that purple polyester suit. Whenever there was an occasion that called for Mom to be dressed up she wore the suit, it was her "lucky suit" she always said.

"I'm gonna go see if it still fits," she said. She returned a few minutes later wearing the purple polyester suit. It was a little snug in some places, and fit perfectly most everywhere else. She looked radiant, turning this way, admiring herself in the long mirror, humming what sounded like an early Elvis Presley song, completely oblivious that I was in the room.

"It still fits, Mom. But why do you call it your lucky suit?"

My question seemed to snap her out of her reverie and she looked directly at me. "This is my lucky suit because this is the suit that I met your dad in. He said it made me look like—well, that's none of your business. And on second thought, I don't think you can wear any of my clothes. You better get going if you're going to find any stores open."

She was right. I needed to get going to see if I could find my own lucky suit. As I left the room she was still admiring her reflection and I'm sure was reminiscing about the night she wore the purple polyester suit and met my father nearly sixty years ago.

Summertime Conversations — August 12, 2010

***The following conversation took place between my mother and me a few days ago. We hadn't spoken in over a week which is unusual for us.***

Riiiiinnnnngggggg…

Me: “Hello?”

Mom: “Whatcha’ doing?”

Me: “Sweatin'!”

Mom: “Oh! Whatcha’ been doing?”

Me: “Sweating.”

Mom: “I see.”

Me: “How was your trip?”

Mom: “Warm.”

Me: “Did you do any sight-seeing?”

Mom: “Well, we started to get out of the car once, but it was too hot.”

Me: “I see. When did you get back?”

Mom: “A few days ago. Did you do anything for Friend's birthday?”

Me: “We were gonna go fishing, but it was too humid. Went to the casino instead.”

Mom: “Oh, my! How much did you lose?”

Me: “None! I came out ahead for a change.”

Mom: “Wow! Good for you. What about Friend?”

Me: “Well...it wasn't her day. She did get to keep her birthday cake, though.”

Mom: “Hahahahaha. Lololololololol. Hehehehhe...”

Me: “You shouldn't laugh at that...”

Mom: “I can't help it; it's funny to me.”

Me: “I'm going to cook a birthday dinner. Do you want to come eat?”

Mom: “Come to your house? In this heat? Heavens, no! It would be fun to watch you play musical air conditioners, though. Well, gotta go,
Wheel of Fortune
is on. Bye.”

Click!

Waiting On The Drano — May 5, 2011

Here are the top ten things to do while waiting on the Drano to work:

It's been fifteen minutes, time to flush the drain!

I’ll Make A Donation — September 13, 2010

I was up at the mailbox this morning when my eccentric neighbor, Merlethem Shatz, spotted me and came rushing over. For obvious reasons that I've chronicled before I try to avoid her whenever possible. However, I'm usually not successful and end up with an earful; today was no exception.

"Hey! Middle-Aged Fat Lady! Where you been? You ain't been sitting out on the porch lately?"

"It's been too hot," I replied.

"Whew! I know what you mean. I've been chafed in more places than I care to mention. I been through a whole bottle of Goldbond Medicated Powder. Tell your sister I said thanks for those coupons; they really came in handy. Did you watch the
Stand Up To Cancer Telethon
the other night?”

"I watched most of it. I was amazed that they got all three of the network news anchors to be together on the same channel," I said.

"Well, I wasn't too concerned about that. I've been saving my change and I wanted to make a donation," Merlethem said.

"That's terrific. Did you make one?"

"I did, but it took me all night!"

"Why? Was the line busy?" I asked.

"No. I kept hanging up on them," she said.

"What did you do that for?" I asked.

"I kept getting people I've never heard of before," she said.

"I don't understand..."

"Every time I called I got a volunteer or someone that I've never heard of. I got that Kathy Griffin woman three times. Ain't she on the B list or something?"

"Well, I don't think it's very nice to hang up on people. Those folks are volunteering their time and energy."

"That may be true. But, I'm volunteering my money and if I'm going to make a donation. I want to talk to a celebrity. A real one!"

Snooze, You Lose — September 25, 2010

I spent a few hours selling junk at the flea market and decided I would take the long way home and stop and see what mom was doing. It was before noon on Friday which still left a few hours to visit local yard sales, which is a favorite pastime of ours. I had noticed several sales coming over the mountain so that's the way we headed.

The first place we stopped wasn't really a yard sale; it was more of a permanent-type set up that is always selling junk. It's not normally where you can find a good deal. We wanted to check out a few other locations in that area but my sugar started to drop and we went to lunch instead. (Mom and I never miss an opportunity to eat out!)

Mom usually adopts the requirements of the diet that I am on at any given time. The flavor of the month this time is the Adkin's Diet or low carbohydrate diet. Of course, when I have hypoglycemia, I have to have carbohydrates, or sugar, quickly to raise my blood glucose level or I can have a seizure. (Check out Julia Robert's having a seizure in
Steel Magnolias
and you'll see for yourself; it ain't pretty.)

Mom decided she wanted the half chef salad with blue cheese dressing on the side. They didn't have blue cheese, so she ordered French. I'm not sure if the waitress was hard of hearing or not but she thought mom said ranch and they kept getting louder and louder as the server would say “RANCH” and mom would say “NO! FRENCH!” After several exchanges, it was determined that they didn't have French, and mom ended up with ranch after all.

After lunch we headed over to the other side of town and were headed back towards Mom's house on a back road. We do like to explore and ended up following signs advertising a yard sale well off the beaten path. In fact, it was way past being out in the Boonies and we thought we were heading to Timbuktu, or its neighbor, East Fumble Buck.

We pulled up to a house that had its entire yard filled with junk; our kind of place. The lady having the sale was talking to some fella about medical problems or something but nodded in our direction. I had seen that guy before at sales around town; he'll talk your ear off.

The lady had a very large table piled with paperback books and a sign said they were a quarter each. Now, that's a really good price and I was thinking about making the lady an offer to buy the entire table.

"How much for the whole table?" I asked.

The lady walked away from Mr. Talkative and over to the table. Now, I had a price in my head and if she was anywhere close to it, I was going to get the whole shebang. "Oh, 'bout ten dollars," she said.

Before I even had time to process that amount, Mom walked over and said, "Sold!" The lady and I looked at each other; we didn't know mom wanted in on the deal.

I started to say something to mom when she shushed me and said, "Snooze, you lose, go get the car, those books are mine!"

What's a daughter to do? I wanted the books.

You're right; I went and got the car...

Mi Costenita — January 23, 2009

Spanish isn’t my second language. I had to stop and get gas the other day and happened to visit a store in a neighborhood that has a growing Hispanic population. As I breezed through the front entrance I was met with the loudest Salsa music that I have ever heard. Trying to get into the swing of things I looked at the clerk and shouted ole` a couple of times.

I walked twice around the large sombrero display that was advertising the Coke special of the week and belted out one more ole` for good measure.

I wanted to get a bag of chips but I’m tired of the brands and flavors that they have in my area. I wanted to try something different. I came across a display that was selling authentic Hispanic snacks: Wheat pellets with chili & lemon, that’s what the label said. I thought they looked more like BBQ pork rinds. I grabbed a bag and headed on over to the counter. I thought I would try out my language skills.

“Caliente?” I asked.

“No, they’re not hot at all. And the word is comida for spicy, not caliente,” said the clerk.

“Are they any good?”

“Muy bien.”

As my head continued to bob and pound along to the pulsating and throbbing music, I watched the girl ring up my transaction and hold up my bag of wheat pellets to another clerk and they both started laughing, in Spanish.