I recently read a post at Vajana’s, about her “foot-in-mouth disease,” that brought back a couple of flashbacks from my own and others’ bouts with that illness. (Although truthfully, hers take the cake; nobody dies or ends up in the ER with mine.)
When LG was about to celebrate her first birthday, the little playgroup we belonged to used one of our playdates as a birthday party. About 5 moms and 5 littles. As I was opening one of the gifts, the giver mom asked me, “Are there any colors you especially like for LG, or any that you avoid?”
And as I gently untied ribbon and unfastened tape, I cheerfully chatted back to her, “Well, her coloring is like mine; we can wear most anything . . . but NOT yellow.”
“Oh no. We look like death warmed over in yellow . . . ” untie, unfasten, you know where this is going . . .
I can still see every detail of that little yellow outfit.
Then there was the one that has stuck with me for years because it was so excruciating, even though I was just a spectator. It was a family Christmas, lots of people, lots of simultaneous gift opening going on. Someone must have opened a gift of fragrance, because that started the topic of who likes what scent, etc.
I hear my MIL very emphatically saying, “I cannot STAND Allure. If I’m within 10 feet of someone wearing it, I get deathly ill. It gives me a terrible headache. I never want to even be in the same room with someone wearing that scent.”
And at the very same time, one of my SILs was opening a gift and exclaiming, “Oh, how did you know? I love this. It’s my signature fragrance.”
“What is it?” someone asks.
OK, confess. What can you NOT BELIEVE you said?
(Oh, and I finally finished uploading all my vacation pix to flickr.)