Conversations With My Mother, Part 2

You know it's going to be an interesting day when your mother calls to tell you she has a story so embarrassing that she'd prefer you not tell other people...but it's so good that she doesn't really mind. You're welcome, Mom.

My mother sells Mary Kay. Needless to say, there is a shitload of makeup in her bathroom, and as such she has a vanity and a chair between the bathroom's double sinks. Apparently, she took a shower, put her hair in a towel, got her underwear on, got distracted by something, and went to put on her makeup. Let me just stop at this point and say, in order to hold the inordinate amount of makeup my mother owns, they have a super deep, super wide drawer under her vanity mirror, so the makeup is hidden unless she is using it. Now, my mom is premenopausal, so she has a fan on her vanity as well. She reached up to turn on the fan and shut her boob in the drawer. Now I will let her comments tell the rest of the story.

"My first thought was, SHIT THAT HURTS! Then I wondered if I would have a purple nipple or something."

"Finally, I realized it's a bad day when things have gone so south that you are shutting your boobs in drawers."

Personally, I'm not sure which is more funny...the fact that she shut her boob in the makeup drawer (which, by the way, definitely holds enough to cover a possible purple nipple, should that be necessary) or the fact that she was reaching UP and shut it in the drawer.

Wow.

Messages from my mother...

This is the first in what is sure to be a long and eventful series of blogs containing voicemails, text messages and emails from my mother. I love my mom...but she often leaves messages from her dog, to my dog and, best of all, from Jane-land (a place where only Jane can understand what they mean).

Yesterday's voicemail:

This is your mother. I know this might not mean anything to you, since you just moved into a new house, but I just want you to know that I just cleaned my pantry, oven and under the refrigerator. Okay, bye!

She's right. It means nothing. Why do I care about your cleaning, and why do you need to leave me a message letting me know that's how you spent your Sunday afternoon?

She also likes to leave messages about her dreams although, in all fairness, a lot of people do that. I still don't understand why, though. Unless your dream is seriously hilarious or straight up wrong...NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR DREAM!!!!! Geez.

Mom always said I should do something with my writing, but I don't think this is quite what she meant... :)