Sunday, May 12, 2013Today, in one of my semi-annual phone conversations with my mom, in between regaling me with stories about how she believes Asians purchase shoes* and anecdotes about the nine pounds of zucchini she purchased yesterday, she starts in on a rant about the way kids dress these days.
Somewhere in the middle of "they just need to pull up their pants" and "it must be so hard to find a shirt that isn't clingy", she mentions how she remembers that when I was in high school, I had to be careful about what colors I wore because of the gangs.
Apparently, my mom has forgotten that I went to a high school that was only slightly less ethnically diverse than the Republican National Convention and now believes that I spent my formative years in South Central Los Angeles. Someone remind me to draw on a teardrop tattoo before I see her again...
*what? Seriously, even if I told you the whole conversation, it wouldn't make sense so I won't bother