OK, yesterday was my birthday. I am 32 years old, married with two children and a dog. I have a Master's degree and a successful career and yet I am still scared to death of my mother. A few months ago I bought the coolest pair of platform peeptoes. When I showed her a picture of them she thought that they were very cute, reasonably priced, and even asked why I didn't get them. Despite this, I knew if she knew that I had if fact bought them she would have given me hell... "You don't need any more shoes", "Stop spending money", etc., etc. The first time I wore them I wore flip flops because I was meeting my mom to hand off my kids before I went to work (she was watching them for the day) and hid them in my work bag and then changed shoes when I got to work.
Two weeks ago Sassy Pineapple and I celebrated my birthday early by going and getting new tattoos. For me it was my second tattoo. For SP, her first. So when my mom decided to make me dinner for my birthday what was I worried about... you guessed it. What the fuck was I going to do when she saw my tattoo. Or worse what would I do when my 3 year old went up to her and said "I don't like the flowers on mommy's foot" like he has been saying for the past two weeks.
So I got my first tattoo when I was 18 (for my birthday). I didn't tell my mom but she inevitabily found out about it. She was pissed. Being a good catholic all kinds of arguements were thrown out... I was going to hell, I was rash, it was a waste of money, why on earth would I mutilate my body, etc., etc. She was vocal, as she always is, and she did not approve. Well nothing has changed as I have aged. If she doesn't approve she let's loose. Her biggest point of contention... wasted money.
So, needless to say, my mom finding out about my new tattoo which is on the top of my foot and is bigger than my other tattoo is not on the top of my priority list. Actually what is on the top of my priority list is hiding it from her for as long as possible at all costs, because the lecture and bitch-fest that would ensue would be far more painful than two and a half hours of having the top of my foot tattooed.
So back to my birthday dinner... My husband was also of the mindset don't let mom know about the tattoo. He kept saying wear socks and tennis shoes. Ahh HELLO! The last time I checked it was summer and it was 85 degrees outside. Furthermore I hate wearing socks... I love ballet flats because it means I don't have to wear socks. And my mother would be totally tipped off. She knows me better than that. OK back the point. I ended up wearing a pair of Keen sandels and coyly moved my foot everytime my mom came near me.
SERIOUSLY... I am 32 years old and I am hiding shit from my mom like I did when I was in high school and living at home. When will it ever end....
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