Some Habits Die Hard, Others Are Murdered
With permission.
When I was younger Mumsy used to not carry a purse. Who needs one when you have a bra?
She kept everything in her bra. Keys, her pager, folded up dollar bills, a coin purse, a pen—or two. I have reason to believe she probably kept her romance novels in there. This, you'll be thrilled to know, is something she learned at her mother's knee. My maternal grandmother kept her cigarettes (yes, the whole pack) in her bra. Unlike my mother, however, she probably also kept a flask of something to warm a woman up on a cold winter night next to the smokes.
We all just accepted this as a fact of life. We didn't love it, but that's the way things were. Where by 'we all' I mean my siblings and I, excluding my brother. It kind of bothered him, and can you blame him? A simple request for the car keys left her routing around in her underwear. That'll damage any teenage boy.
One day my siblings and I were sitting around the kitchen table talking and laughing. My brother, unbeknownst to us, had made some preparations. "Hey guys," he said, "who am I?" And with that, he reached down his shirt and into the paper sack he was holding between his knees. At first simple items emerged from his shirt—a pen, mom's coin purse, a pager... then came the stuffed animals and the animal balloon and the dictionary... We were all laughing so hard tears were streaming down our faces.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
Mumsy heard our laughter and came searching for the cause.
At first, out of shear self-preservation, mass refusal and denial took place. However, being The MOTHER we eventually bowed to her supreme rule. My brother restocked the bag, and asked her, oh, so innocently, "Who am I?" With that simple question more items were drawn from the grocery bag. Mumsy quickly recognized herself and joined in our appreciative laughter.
No one was more relieved than my brother when she returned to keeping only the items the manufactures had intended in her bra.
I, on the other hand, have been known to keep chapstick there. I mean, really, where are you supposed to put stuff when you have no pockets or purse?
When I was younger Mumsy used to not carry a purse. Who needs one when you have a bra?
She kept everything in her bra. Keys, her pager, folded up dollar bills, a coin purse, a pen—or two. I have reason to believe she probably kept her romance novels in there. This, you'll be thrilled to know, is something she learned at her mother's knee. My maternal grandmother kept her cigarettes (yes, the whole pack) in her bra. Unlike my mother, however, she probably also kept a flask of something to warm a woman up on a cold winter night next to the smokes.
We all just accepted this as a fact of life. We didn't love it, but that's the way things were. Where by 'we all' I mean my siblings and I, excluding my brother. It kind of bothered him, and can you blame him? A simple request for the car keys left her routing around in her underwear. That'll damage any teenage boy.
One day my siblings and I were sitting around the kitchen table talking and laughing. My brother, unbeknownst to us, had made some preparations. "Hey guys," he said, "who am I?" And with that, he reached down his shirt and into the paper sack he was holding between his knees. At first simple items emerged from his shirt—a pen, mom's coin purse, a pager... then came the stuffed animals and the animal balloon and the dictionary... We were all laughing so hard tears were streaming down our faces.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
Mumsy heard our laughter and came searching for the cause.
At first, out of shear self-preservation, mass refusal and denial took place. However, being The MOTHER we eventually bowed to her supreme rule. My brother restocked the bag, and asked her, oh, so innocently, "Who am I?" With that simple question more items were drawn from the grocery bag. Mumsy quickly recognized herself and joined in our appreciative laughter.
No one was more relieved than my brother when she returned to keeping only the items the manufactures had intended in her bra.
I, on the other hand, have been known to keep chapstick there. I mean, really, where are you supposed to put stuff when you have no pockets or purse?
posted by granola girl at 7:10 pm
2 Comments:
Unbelievably, your Dad had never heard this story! I was laughing so hard I could hardly read it to him...and he was laughing so hard he almost fell off the couch!
For anyone who may doubt this story, I am here to tell you it is all true! (well, except the part where I no longer put stuff in the bra--I have been known to put my keys there, or my cell phone--just call it backsliding!)
mumsy
From "My missionary" Sister Girl
(I emailed her this blog post, and this was her reply):
Mom actually sent that blog entry to me..... sorry to burst your bubble. I couldn't stop laughing thouhg when I was reading it. I was laughing so hard that I was crying and my companions were wondering what on earth could possibly be that funny, so I made them read it. They thought it funny, not nearly as funny as I, but one of them thought to herself,
yep, definitely her family.
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