Wednesday, May 02, 2012

Crabby (doesn't fit in her) Pants

I have been in a rotten mood for days.

About, oh, pretty much anything. Last week was so busy and this week hasn’t been any better; I think that I’m a little overtired and completely prone to being too sensitive, easily frustrated and teetering on the edge of insanity.

On Saturday, I went shopping with my mom and my sister. I love shopping with my mom and my sister! (I really do.) We stopped for lunch, picked up a few wedding gifts and then we went department store crazy. Mom picked out the most gorgeous red handbag for us to give her for Mother’s Day (don’t worry, she’ll get presents that she doesn’t know about, too). Meg got a few gorgeous dresses to wear to weddings. I got frustrated.

And a couple of shirts.

But mostly frustrated.

I had just finally rebuilt my winter wardrobe when the weather changed and suddenly I am left with nothing to wear all over again. It pisses me off.

And since I’m stuck in a foul mood, it really pisses me off. Enrages me.

When our shopping trip featured my mother pulling skirts and pants and dresses off the rack in the wrong size, over and over and over again? I just wanted to scream. And I wanted to pout. And I wanted to buy absolutely nothing which would solve absolutely nothing but sometimes don’t you just want to deal with what’s pissing you off and I didn’t want to deal with it.

I was surprisingly nice about it, though. I wanted to cry but I didn’t show it. I didn’t once throw a pair of jeans at my mother when they were too big in the waist, again. Because I still don’t wear that size, lady. And I didn’t say much of anything when she frowned at the dress I had tried on because I looked positively scrawny. Which I did. But, hell. Criticism is especially stinging when it comes from your mom. Even if it’s true.

1 comments:

Teagan B. Sawyer said...

Criticism I think does hurt the most when it comes from your mom...for some reason. Hang in there.

 
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