England, UK

I got it from my mama

8 March 2018


Can we... Can we just take a moment and admire the fact that my mother looks like a total 80's goddess.
I MEAN COME ON.
Why were none of these beauty tips passed onto me Mum?????
... YOU KNOW. I'm sort of your legacy...so maybe sitting me down and teaching me how to contour would have been a huge benefit to the future generations of our family eh?
 But I'll guess they will never know how to achieve a 'warm glow', or apply a 'popping' highlighter.
So thank you VERY MUCH Trina.

In all seriousness. This is my Mum lads.
And doesn't she look bangin'... (is it weird to talk about your own Mother like that...?)

Fair enough. This was before I popped out and spent the past 21 year's turning her grey... but WOWEE my Mum was SPICY.

I, on the other hand, am sat on the floor, with chocolate rice cracker crumbs down my top, a spot on my forehead that has it's own pulse and checkered leggings with a hole in the bum.


It's mother's day on the... oh shit when is it again two secs...
ON SUNDAY. Crap.

Which means the tradition of Ferrero Rocher's and slipper socks will be carried over for yet another year... COME ON what am I supposed to get a mum that has everything? She's got me for as a daughter for starters.

But I thought I'd mix it up a bit this year and write her something from the heart... I'll probably have to read it too her though, because Mother Dearest swears by her Nokia (the one with the tiny green screen) and only clocked how to get into her emails the other day... she's a teacher SO THAT'S HANDY.

Anyhoo

I've figured out, that you go through three stages in life:

Stage 1. 
(Ages 0-12)
When your parent's are literally GOD, and you want to grow up to be exactly like them- minus the grey barnet and occasional hairy chin.
 ⇩
Stage 2. 
(Ages 12-19)
MUM. YOU ARE WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING. I HATE YOU. I'M BASICALLY AN ADULT. LOOK I HAVE BOOBS (still waiting for that excuse to happen). STOP RUINING MY LIFE phase.
 ⇩
Stage 3.
(Ages 19 +)
Oh bugger. Can we hurry this friend date along please. I need to get home and find out who killed Emma in MINUS 25 minutes- The Turning into My Mother Stage.

I know Mum is going to appreciate and probably get weepy over the fact that parts of her are slowly showing in her No. 1.
But I just like to clarify MOTHER, that this shall NOT be an ongoing process, it stops HERE... TODAY... RIGHT THIS SECOND IN FACT.
Ok?

So yeah, here's a list of ways I'm (slowly) twinning with my Mother.
(Maybe if I write it all down, the ultimately powers from above, will take pity on me and stop this craziness...?)

1. We both LOVE a cheeky deal (and are shockingly fabulous at it).
Give us a knock- off shelf in ASDA or a high street full of charity shops and WE WILL find the goods.

2. We are can make art out of anything.
Put it this way, my pooch dragged a log of wood into our house the other day, and my Mum somehow turned it into a wind chime.

3. We cancel plans to watch Crime documentaries... but not in the same room... she asks WAY too many questions. Shut up and watch the psychopath Mother.

4. LAYER ME UP BABY.
Back in the good old days- walking around the house butt naked was a daily occurrence for yours truly. Nowadays, thermal leggings and long-sleeved vests are apparently a thing.
They aren't cute. Or going to get me laid anytime soon. But Mum, you were right (dang it)... comfort really is better than fashion.

5. Sad, skinny donkey's on the TV?? Finger's are going in ears PEOPLE.
We're too delicate for the cold hard truth.

6. (My Gramp's added this one)
I'm forever standing on the dining room chair, and spinning around to catch a look of my OOTD in their humongous mirror. And apparently my Mother did exactly the same.
Bloody hell... there's no going back now is there...

7. Oh the mood swings. More extreme than a toddler in an Easter egg aisle.
Happy go-lucky turned raging bitch in approximately 0.75 seconds... and that's being generous.

8. An extensive (actual hand-written) list, of all the coffee shops we want to try in our local area.
Mum wants bone china, and lacy doilies, but give me a bench and a few droopy plants and I'm sorted.

RIGHT. I'm going to stop now because this is giving me the heebie jeebies.

Love ya Mum. Happy Mother's Day. And please can you just shut up when I'm trying to watch Emmerdale... I still don't know who killed Emma.





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