It's really funny how my relationship with my mom works.

Today was a Pilgrim dress up day at my school. I had to borrow a long black skirt from mom. I asked her where I could find the skirt and she says "It's in my closet."

"Where mother?" I say slightly annoyed keep in mind her closet is the size of most peoples large bathrooms. It's a walk in closet with enough room for a dresser and a rack from floor to ceiling completely stuffed with shoes. Like all the great women in our family we are both condemned to a shoe fetish. Mom's closet is an over pour of garment. So when she told me in there I was not amused. It was like trying to find a needle in a hey stack.

"Just in there."

I requested further back up, "Mother where in there?"

She directed me to an area was rather snoody in her remarks and yelled some random babble at me, which I ignored. Her and her boyfriend remain not on the best of terms and this is a main source of tension and frustrations that she brings out on me. I eventually foung the skirt. This wasn't just a lieing around the closet black skirt. This was a formal skirt made of satin material with a strip of deep black velvet at the bottom. The label inside reads Anne Taylor. I was angry with her directions toward me and the way she handles situations. I snatched the skirt off the hanger and headed to my room. I slid the skirt on and I wasn't happy with how high it sat on my waste. I added a few slits and shimmied it down to my waste.

At school Emily made a comment of liking the skirt. I laughed and pointed out my handy craftsman ship.

"Your mother is going to kill you."

"I know." I replied

"You blonde," she retorted.

"Hey you're pretty blonde your self there Mrs. Em."

"So your not going to be blonde much longer..."

We both laughed and ate our lunches. I love my bestfriend and I love my mom.

kate