In which I see and hear horrifying things

Every time I go home my mom asks me to take a look through her massive closet that is bigger than my current bedroom. The idea is that I will weed her clothing collection, which I am more than happy to do. My mom has so many cute new things now that they have real stores in Alaska. These clothes look great on her. So I don't feel at all bad about tossing out the stuff that screams "room mother" or "Women's Conference participant" or "stuck in 1993."

Last time I showed no mercy. She could only keep one denim jumper--the rest had to go. Ditto on the high-waisted pleated khaki pants. And pretty much any high-waisted pleated thing, since they are all of the devil and want nothing more than to make everyone's butts look huge. And then laugh and make those beeping noises that trucks make when they back up. Mom fussed and fretted over the huge pile of clothes I was collecting. I ripped down all the wire coat hangers and told her she wasn't allowed to use them anymore and could just give them back to the dry cleaners if she doesn't like wasting them. Also nasty Christmas sweaters. I tried to take those out back and burn them but she caught me at it.

Then we come to the vests. You know what kind of vests I'm talking about (waistcoats for my British friends). They were really big in about 1990. And now middle-aged ladies are still stuck on the idea. Also they still wear the same hairstyle they had in 1990, which is a completely different tragic story. My mom doesn't do that though. Her hair is very nice.

Anyway. The vests. It's the ones that elementary school teachers and PTA moms wear over their white turtlenecks with the buttons in the shape of apples, or schoolhouses, or farm animals. The one in the pic below is newer and not as hideous, but you get the idea. My mom used to make them for every holiday and had about 15 hanging up in her closet. I knew we were in for a fight, there.

I pointed out to my mother that she no longer works at an elementary school and therefore has no reason to look the part. I chucked them all out but since I never actually saw any of them make it to the thrift store it's entirely possible that she snuck them back upstairs. And maybe they're hanging there now in their buttoned glory, while other, cuter clothes pretend like they don't see them.

I chatted with Spitfire about this recently and asked if she remembered The Vests.

Spitfire: "Uh, yeah I remember them. Every time she made one for herself she would make me one too."

Me: "Wait, are you serious?"

Spitfire: "Oh yeah. And I would tell her I liked it because I didn't want to hurt her feelings, even though I was 13 years old and she was dressing me like I was 6."

Me: "Maybe it's because you were the size of a 6-yr-old."

Spitfire: "Yeah, maybe. I had the vests with the farm animals and everything."

Later I talked to Jenny about this. Because that's what we do in my family: talk about each other.

Me: "So did you know that Mom used to make Spitfire those awful vests with the farm animals?"

Jenny, laughing evilly: "OH yeah. And when she would make them I would tell Spitfire how pretty I thought they were. And how she should definitely wear them to school."

Me: "What the crap? Why would you do that?"

Jenny: "Hey. That's what you get when you freaking pinch me on the inside of my arm. She did it all the time and never got in trouble. Well who's laughing NOW??!??"

Then there was all this cackling and possibly thunder and lightening and other evil sounds.

Me: "Oh my gosh. That is so wrong and you're probably going to hell."

Jenny: "See? That's why we tried to borrow your clothes all the time. It wouldn't have killed you, you know."

It's crazy the kind of family stories that are coming out now--things I never noticed happening because I was too busy being scholastically minded and self-absorbed.