Sunday, May 12, 2013

Today, 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

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