Senior prom is this Friday, and the past few weeks have been a frenzy of local Junior and Senior girls trying to find just the right dresses. This means mothers and daughters everywhere participated in the ritual mating dance.
G and I participated in this ritual a couple of weeks ago. We walked, browsed, tried, walked, browsed, walked and walked. I am blessed. G is not fussy and knew what she wanted before we ever left the house: short and sleek, no ruffles, no bows, and no rhinestones.
While G was in Dillard‘s trying on a couple of dresses, I browsed the racks of casual wear next to the formal wear and came across a rack of super cute rompers. I showed them to G and said, “I used to have a bunch of these, of course, they had a more modest neck line and sleeveless instead of strapless, oh, and the shorts were a little longer.” G just looked at it and nodded. A cue that she wouldn’t be caught dead in it. “Although,” I added, “I wouldn’t suggest that you ever buy one. It sure is cute, but you have to undress just to use the bathroom, or pull the crotch over and hope you don’t sprinkle on your hand.”
“Oh my goodness, Mother!”
“Well, it’s true.” I said while giving her a knowing look. “It’s all one piece. They look easy breezy, but they are a pain in the butt when you have to use the bathroom. Trust me.”
“That sounds like a story.” I had gotten her attention. “What did you do?” She asked as if I had just committed some act that was going to humiliate her for the rest of her life.
“Well, I bought this cute little sleeveless romper that zipped in the back. It had a modest neckline and flowy shorts, and it was made of rayon. I was in love with rayon back then, so soft and breathable.” We left the prom dresses and headed toward the escalators. G was giving me the I-don’t-care-and-get-on-with-the-story stare, so I quickly got back to the point. “Dad had taken me to some restaurant, and I don’t remember who we were with, but I had drunk a ton of liquid and eventually I had to use the bathroom. I went into a stall and tried to unzip, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. It was stuck. I pulled and pulled, but it wasn’t going to go anywhere. So I thought maybe I could pull the crotch over far enough that I could pee, because the legs of the shorts were a little loose and flowy.”
“Oh my goodness, Mother. You didn’t.” She turned and looked as she stepped on the escalator in front of me.
“Heaven’s no. When I squatted, the fabric pulled making it impossible to pee without sprinkling everywhere.”
“So what did you do?”
“Well, I had no other option than to rip the crotch apart.” I thought she was going to tumble down the escalator from shock.
“You ripped the crotch out of your outfit!”
“Well, I tried to, but I couldn’t get it to rip, so I went out to the hostess-cashier lady and ask her for a pair of scissors. She looked at me strangly, so I told her that I needed to use the bathroom, but my zipper was utterly stuck. She offered to come in and help, so – ”
“She didn’t.” Grace was slightly motified.
“Yes, she did. She tugged and tugged, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. She went back out and brought in some scissors. I went into the stall and cut the crotch apart.” G looked completely mortified. “I had to,” I defended with the zeal of Joey and Chandler defending their urinating on Monica’s leg. “I had no other option. It wasn’t like I wanted to destroy my clothing. I had to pee!”
“What did you do after that, just walk around like it was supposed to be a skirt?” Waiting a few seconds for me to get off the escalator to walk through the department store beside me.
“No way! I made Dad take me home to change. I couldn’t walk around in a jumper that had a Dracula’s peak for a hemline! What would people think? And that’s why I will never wear or recommend anyone to wear a jumper. They are cute, but not practical.”
Giggling like school girls, okay like a school girl and her mother, we left Dillard’s and went across The Avenue to Cache to buy her prom dress, which I have to say is stunning. More importantly, she doesn’t have to disrobe to use the bathroom