My Mother, the Rockstar

Fun fact: my Mother will never leave the house without lipgloss. Ever.

It used to be an annoyance of mine, waiting for her as she carefully re-applied her Color of the Month in her visor mirror. As if those extra 30 seconds (she’s precise) would actually make a difference in the scheme of things. Yet now, I appreciate her constant attention to detail. Even when going through treatments for the “C” word, she never looked short of spectacular.

So, it should come as no surprise that today, while making an unannounced and inaugural visit to my office, she looked like a movie star. If you know her, you know I am not exaggerating. I am not sure how my co-workers perceived her prior to said drop-by, however not they call her my mom “the Rockstar.”

Clad with a tea length, winter white fur, classic black pants, sunglasses and open-toed heels – and a perfectly cropped platinum bob – she walks with an ease that makes me curious which genetics I got when trying to walk in stilettos.

Two of my co-workers returned, rushing to the windows at the mention of “my Mom just popped by, sorry you missed her” – impressed, and likely surprised that the girl known to sport sweatshirts and tennis shoes was bred from such a creature.

Co-worker #1: “What was your Mom all dressed up for?”
Me: “Umm..I mean, that’s just what she wears. Oh, and it’s the company holiday party at her office tonight.” 
Co-worker #2: “Was that real fur?” 

And with that, I will leave you with this snotty, only child remark: my Mom’s more fabulous than your Mom.

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