Leticia could not believe what her mother had just muttered. “Could you repeat that?”
Mother: “I said that you should get away from that window before the neighbors see you.”
Leticia: “But I want them to see me. This outfit was specially designed for me by La Maison de Egoiste in Paris. It’s an original.”
Mother: “And you were originally a lovely daughter who didn’t brazenly strut about in an outfit that doesn’t make any sense. You have an iron on your head, child. I raised you better than that.”
Leticia: “Well, Mother, times change. And sometimes that means that old people don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Mother: “Really? Perhaps I should point out that some things don’t change. And one of those things is that you have to have an income stream of some kind if you expect to make it anywhere in this world.”
Leticia: “I don’t have to worry about money. I have the trust fund that you set up.”
Mother: “You had it until you walked into this room wearing that mess of crap.”
Leticia: “You can’t do that! You’re supposed to take care of me!”
Mother: “And that’s what I’m doing. This is a teaching moment.”
Leticia: “Teaching me what? That you’re mean and hateful?”
Mother: “No. Teaching you that freedom isn’t a given, that you own what you do, that a good life has nothing to do with what other people think of you, and that sometimes the old people are much wiser than anything you see on the Internet. Now grow your ass up and go change into something that says you and doesn’t say somebody else.”
Note: This is Exhibit #1 in Bonnywood’s March Madness. Details found here.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
If I could fit into that, I’d strut about too.
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I might for a little bit. But once the applause ended, I’d be back to jeans and a t-shirt… 😉
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I’d love to be accused of acting brazenly
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Trust, it’s not as much fun as you think it might be… 😉
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While this entry isn’t as verbose as we’re used to, I did chortle at the iron chapeau remark.
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It’s my favorite line in the piece. Once again, we click. Which is satisfying but also mildly concerning… 😉
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Don’t question it. Just revel in the knowledge there are two of us.
🍸
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I like this one just the way it is. The message is clear. The iron is…. Holy crap he’s right. It’s an iron. As usual I had to scroll back and look.
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Right? It’s the tiny little bits in the images that completely change the story…
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Freedom clearly isn’t a given.
Freedom is earned, to be cherished – and doesn’t suffer fools who don’t know how important the fight is.
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Well said. To me, one of the biggest obstacles in society, today, is that there are too many people who haven’t had to work for their freedom. It’s just been given to them and they don’t fully appreciate what they have or what others don’t have…
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I like this as it is, especially Mother’s last paragraph. The only thing I have to take issue with is the iron, because that’s clearly a curling rock. Maybe her whole head will spin around if you find some nice smooth ice and give her a good shove.
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Now that you mention it, I can see the “curling rock” angle. (Though I must admit that I’ve never really understood that sport, especially when folks run around with their brushes and rollers and whatnot, smoothing out the ice. That seems like cheating to me, but it’s very probable that I simply don’t grasp all the details.) I’ll have to stick with the iron image, specifically the “old-school” kind that was basically a heavy chunk of metal with a handle. One of my grannies had such WAY back in the day, heating it on the stove before tackling the daily washing…
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1/ Does the label translate to House of Ego? My french is ferrously oxided at best. 2/ The dress, complete with over-sized bows can just pass muster, in a lacy crazy Alice Through The Looking Glass way; maybe. The one that goes way over the top is not the the bone-headed flat iron beret but the heavy-handed candelabra crossed with bangle combination. That’s no lightweight charm bracelet.
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1/ Actually, “House of Egotist”. You’ll have to forgive my minor transitions to French here and there, as I spent many years studying such in my formative years. I only remember about 10% of that mess, but I do have occasional flashbacks without even realizing.
2/ I’m thinking that candelabra mess is actually an urn containing the remains of family harmony. It’s all downhill from here…
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Fabulous and enticing! AKA ROCK Keep writing. Kind regards
S.A.Polla
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Thank you!
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Can she really say which who she is – “vue de moi” / Her Doppelgängerin is just at the edge of the left frame waiting to in and say “Moi! Moi!!”. It is not her fault the designer had trouble getting a handle on the pillbox hat. Perhaps with the right medication,…..🤔 ???
BTW your influence was sitting on my shoulder (fortunately the Voltaren worked, boy did it jump) – you can see the impact on my choice of accompanying images, and a few lines would fit in to one of your posts. 😀
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Yes, I can see me perched on your shoulder in your post, although the sensation is most likely rampant ego, on my part. Can you imagine the havoc we would wreak with a collaborative post? It horrifies and allures me at the same time… 😉
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🤔 🤣
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