My chair at work did lose an armrest a few weeks ago. I was denied a new replacement due to budget cuts and ended up reattaching it with an entire roll of scotch tape. The other option was digging through the graveyard of abandoned chairs leftover from prior layoffs and voluntary retirements, but most chairs were in worse condition than mine. I’ve had a desk job for 25 years now and it never ceases to amaze me that no matter what you spill or where you spill it, the stain always manifests itself as a dark stain in the chairs’ fabric exactly in front of your crotch. Inexplicably, armrests are inevitably more convenient than napkins when in meetings or battling it out with a coworker over email. So, scotch tape it is, and, if I’m going to sit in a stain, I’d much prefer it to be my own.
As the story goes, my Mom and her identical twin sister, Bernadette, were traumatized throughout their adolescence by being forced to wear hand-me-downs and homemade attire due to my grandfather’s frugalness. This resulted in an insatiable desire to shop for clothes upon reaching adulthood, but only at discount clothiers.
Unfortunately, they didn’t get it out of their systems before I was born. Some of my earliest memories are of my mom and aunt dragging my cousins, brother, and I to go “clothes shopping” with them. My Mom always admitted this “urge to shop” was a direct result of her childhood deprivation. Being kids, we entertained ourselves as best as possible, often by hiding in the clothes racks – much to the chagrin of our Moms’ and the store clerks. And the clerks? They knew my Mom and aunt on a first-name basis. As to whether this was due to them being identical twins and easily recognizable, or their frequenting the stores so often as to become regulars is debatable. My money is on the later, however.
As I grew up I have no doubt my Mom’s biggest disappointment is that I didn’t inherit her love of clothes. It’s not for lack of trying, either. She’d drag me to Nordstroms, eager to buy me the latest in Men’s “Surfer Wear” that was all the rage in the 80’s and 90’s, and was always shocked when I’d shrug off her attempts. It is a little known fact that, yes, for the most part I let my Mom dress me all through middle school and high school.
My Mom got the last laugh, though. Between my brother and I? Four granddaughters. All of whom have inherited the clothes shopping gene. She’s never been happier.
This comic is a tribute to my Mom and my aunt. Shop til you drop and spend every penny, just please, oh, please, don’t drag me along anymore.
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