|
My Profile
She blinded him with whiteness - 2008-07-25
|
8:47 a.m. - 2008-04-30
I bought my suit for Alex's wedding yesterday. Wolf's suit too, but his is styling and he has a nifty silk tie and pocket square to go with it, so my kid will be a zillion times cooler than I will be. But this was the point. One of Alex's 'grievances' is that I am too fashion conscious. I make Rachel unhappy with my Vogue uptown ways. He's embarrassed by his citified Zsa Zsa mother and is totally pissed off that his girl feels all dumpy and schlumphy around me. Rightie-o. No accusations of upstaging the bride. None of my usual 'antics' at all. Mother of the Groom to the Nth degree is the order of the day. I can't find a picture of the actual suit I bought yesterday. Suffice it to say it looks something like this only nerdier with a white bib dickey in the slightly lower open neckline so as to render the Breasts of Munificence completely asexual and not the least bit showy. The suit also isn't cut quite that curvy, but short of donning a burqua there's no hiding I am a female so it will have to do. I have taken it as a challenge to see how dowdy and boring I can be without it being obvious I am mocking myself and my role as the Evil Mother-in-Law. I'm even skipping the required navy and white spectator pumps in favor of some matte black skimmers and leaving off wearing a hat all together. I'm still back and forth about wearing my pearls. They are of very fine quality and obviously real. Real pearls might be construed as 'uppity'. Perhaps some plain white button earrings and the removal of all of my rings save my engagement ring would be the safest way to go. I am determined that my attire be as neutral and as inoffensive as my behavior. Why go at all? Again, like my boring suit, showing up is easier on him than staying away. Sticky questions about my absence and huffy affronts as to my not being there would be taken as a signal that my son's choice isn't 'good enough' for me…feh. Who needs this tsoris? I'll go. Ride herd on Wolf and my tongue. Put in the required face time and make a discrete exit when it's allowed. I know, seems like a lot of trouble and effort when we all know no matter what I do and how I dress Alex will find fault and blame me for screwing up something, but at least I can make it as easy as possible on him (and maddeningly hard to find something to pillory me for). He's my son and despite his conviction that I'm a shit mother and that I ruined his life, I love him. I love him enough to wear a boring nun suit. I love him enough to go to his wedding and behave myself though he's broken my heart and cost me more tears and pain than his wretch of a father ever had. I'm going because in all likelihood this will be the last time I'll see him. At least until the kids start coming and he needs a soft touch grandma with an open wallet. And possibly free babysitting service, provided he trusts me enough not to fuck up his kids' lives too. Cynical much, LA? Hey, what can I say? I need to vent. I have to barf up my bitterness and anger somewhere. Better in my diary than at my son's wedding, don't you think? I think so too.
|
