Dirty
“My mother’s voice, as always, twisted my mouth. “Have you gained weight?”The choice had come down to meeting her for lunch in a neutral location, having her come to my house or meeting her at hers. Dutiful daughter that I was, I’d chosen lunch. We both knew why, but neither of us spoke of it.“Probably, Mother.”She sniffed. “No man’s going to want a woman who doesn’t take care of herself.”I’d been buttering a roll. Now I added extra butter and gave her a completely insincere smile. “I’m not worried about it, Mother.”She sniffed again, sipping water with lemon in it. I should explain that my mother is not old or infirm, or even in failing health, though she’d like to make the world pity her for being so. My mother is an attractive, well-preserved woman in her early sixties, who spends more money on her weekly beauty appointment than I do on groceries. A minor car accident more than fifteen years ago left her with an almost invisible scar on her left leg and the utter inability to drive ...herself anywhere, due to “nerves.”MoreLess
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