Last summer, we were invited to an afternoon pool party at the neighbors. It had been over a year since my body had had a good dose of sunshine (chemo, surgeries, etc….). I wasn’t going to get in the pool (still going through reconstruction), but I definitely wanted some sun. I came downstairs wearing a tank top, sat down for breakfast, and was almost immediately accosted. Porter reached over and grabbed the middle of the tank top, pulled it up, and informed me, in his own words, that my boobs were showing and that was not acceptable for a mom, and more specifically, for his mom. I explained that since we were going to a pool party, that a tank top was indeed acceptable attire, and that he’d just have to live with it. Little did I know…
Porter is my shopping partner. We shop pretty much everywhere together, though I think those times are becoming numbered as he is growing up and growing bored of the whole process. Shortly after the pool party, I took Porter to a store with me to find more tank tops for the rest of the summer. I looked around, put some in the carts to try on, then approached a halter type top, a sleeveless one that tied at the neck. As I reached for it, Porter blocked my arm and says, “No way, not my mom.” So I asked him what was wrong with the top to which he replied, “It’s too sexy.”
We’ve had other incidents since then with other outfits and even with my hair. I have been told that I can’t wear my hair a certain way because I’m a mom, not a kid. And he’s never liked my hair pulled back. The latest was over a pair of boots, the ones he had a melt down over. I looked all last year for a pair of knee high boots I could wear with capris and skirts. So, of course, I find a pair when I’m not meaning to. Before I even try them on, Porter tells me that I’m not going to get them. I try them on, and he’s getting anxious. Then we go through the “Not my mom,” rants and he tells me it’s because they are too sexy and his mom doesn’t wear sexy clothes. I try to calm him down by showing him boots with stiletto heels and other shoes that are “sexy,” but he’s not having it. In fact, at one point he said to me, “Who are you?”
Porter modeling the "too sexy" boots.
Porter went into full meltdown mode when I told him that I was indeed going to purchase these boots. The quivering pouty lip of his babyhood was front and center. Big crocodile tears were rolling down his face. I elicited the help of the sales lady to give “her opinion” of how “professional” the boots looked. Porter had to go to the restroom to try to get himself together. It didn’t quite work. I finally told him that if we took them home and Dad said they were too sexy I would return them. Of course I knew Clint wouldn’t say that, because as you can see, they are not too sexy. I wonder what brought all this awareness on? how long it will last? and if Halloween will be the only time I’m allowed to leave the house looking like a hussy?
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