Diva in the Making: The Early Years

It's not my fault, I tell you!  They made me this way.

My mother has asked me repeatedly over the past coupla decades, a litany of bothersome questions.  They run the gamut of, "When are you going to start dressing more conservatively?" and "When are you going to get a shorter, more sedate haircut?" and "Don't you think you're showing a little too much cleavage?"  To top it all off, she is constantly (even though she continues to remind me of my advancing age) walking behind me on our public outings, pulling the tail of my shirt down ("I can see your bottom!"  horrors) or yanking the front of my blouses and dresses up ("Too much cleavage!  I hope you wouldn't wear something like this to church!").  Just last week, when we were walking into The Olive Garden to have lunch, I made just a wee little joke at her expense and she popped me on the hiney right in front of the hostesses and wait staff!  They all laughed.  Okay, okay ... when she asked where the restrooms were, I pointed to the sign and said, "Well, it says 'ladies' but you can go in anyway."  To make it all the more ridiculous, you have to imagine that I am a large woman and she is quite petite.  But she didn't hesitate to whack me ... I mean, she IS my mother after all and I guess that gives her a certain amount of license.  

My Mama (below).   A true southern, lady.  Methinks she has just a bit of the diva thing going on herself!

Did I digress again?  This, too, is all my mother's fault.  She can't just make a simple statement or give you a straight answer to a question.  My husband has a little story he likes to tell about my mother, and it's quite apt.  Ask Lera what time it is and she'll say, "Well, first there was the Creation and then there was Stonehenge and next we have the sundial and then came the little swiss clockmakers." It takes her quite some time to work her monologue all the way up to the Timex watch and what time it actually is. You get my point.

I think I take after my mother.  This used to bother me.  Used to.  Anyway (oops, I did it again) ... the point is, that I'm not likely to change, Mom.  And you can blame yourself and grandma.  Just look at this picture (top).  Grandma made the dress and you dressed me in it!  Even my cousin, Larry, just doesn't seem to know quite what to make of me.  I mean, just look at all those fluffs, flounces, and laces!  Again and again I have told Mama that I am not likely to change, "Just you wait ... when I am old, I shall wear my tiara to the grocery store!"  Yes, I know, many of you have heard me say this already.  But be warned ... I'm not exactly sure yet when I will have reached that perfect stage of "old" but I am shopping for tiaras already. Really, I am.  And once I find one, don't be surprised if you see me already wearing it.  Why not?  Why wait?  Time's-a-wastin'!  Meanwhile, I will just adorn my neck, arms, ears, etc. with my own fabulous arty creations. Oh, and hopefully, adorn everyone else's necks, arms, and ears, as well.

Here I am, Mama ... sporting a little smirk on my face ... wild hair, scandalous cleavage, and all!  So, just go ahead and keep nagging me ... if you weren't here to do it, I know I'd miss it terribly.