Five years ago...
One hour after I'd gotten my tongue pierced...
Z-Girl: What the...? Thit. I can't anther. The'll know...
Z-Girl: If I don't anther the'll freak out. Dammit.
Z-Girl: Hi, Mom.
Mom: Hi honey.
Mom: Nothing...Hey. What's wrong with your mouth?
Z-Girl: Nuthin'. Why?
Mom: You sound, well, weird. *Gasp* You got your tongue pierced, didn't you?
Z-Girl: Oh my gawd? What are you, thycic?
Mom: Zube Girl. *Sigh*
Let's pretend here that Zube is my first name and Girl is my middle name, because even at 25 your mother still lets you know you're in trouble by calling you by your first and middle names. Or at least mine does. Still. And I'm thirty.
I eventually took out the tongue ring three and a half years ago for a job interview. The job I have right now as a matter of fact. Only, after the interview, I couldn't get the damn thing back in.
As if to add insult to injury, my first day on the job, I realized another guy had one.
Anywho, my Mom will always surprise me, I swear. She and my sisters came out to visit two years ago, and my sisters and I were joking about us all getting matching tattoos. Even Mom. Mom just kept saying, "You girls," which is her way of letting us know we're being ridiculous.
We managed somehow to drag her into the tattoo parlor laughing and giggling. We perused through various books and sundry.
Mom: This one is kind of cute. Can we get this one?
I'm beaming just remembering it. My sisters and I fell silent. After a few moments, it finally dawned on us that Mom was suggesting we get matching tattoos. Whee!
And here they are:
From left to right: My Belle, Hoot, Zube Girl (Shut up! You're not going to go blind!), and Mom
Pretty cool, eh?
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Five years ago...