Some people come home for solace and consolation. Not I.
As I sat in the kitchen, bare feet on the table, Smithwick's in hand, programming manual on my lap, I looked up at my mother and observed, "I'm not very feminine, am I?" I went on to note that her foul plans to program my gender by dressing me in ribbons and bows had failed.
"I NEVER treated you like a female," she responded.
A while later, she noted that the picture of Bill and me had fooled her at first (oh, the gullibility of the pre-PhotoShop generation). "Besides," she commented, "you look a bit like Monica Lewinsky. You both have round faces. You're just his type."
Great, m0m. I'm a masculine tart. And people wonder what's wrong with me.
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6 comments:
Your mom is so funny, Moni--er... Michaela.
You know, you are his type. pity he's married and older. he's even tall enough. sigh.
I've set the photo of you two as my desktop background. It's a classic!
you have tendencies which are much more feminine than some of mine. and also you have a swan as your blog header.
What tendencies are those, Em? Besides doing dishes and making homemade pizza, I cannot think of a one.
Oh, is it the liking kids thing?
(Come on--I'm curious!)
I pluck my eyebrows more frequently. But Em wears more makeup. But my mouth is fouler. We both like kids, but I don't like babies.
Those are the comparisons I see.
I bought a baking stone last month. It's awesome.
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