mother of days...

Today, I wore a skirt.
Should I mention that it was quite a short skirt? And that I am 1.72m tall?
So I wore my lovely skirt, and walked around AUB in all the pride I could summon, thinking that the crossover bag that was pulling at my stockings was not harming them in any way.
I was wrong. Of course.
Because my stockings tore just under the skirt. And I walked to my class, through West Hall, [also known as the watchtower, where students dumbly sit on the stairs of an old building, and stare at the passers-by for the lack of anything better to do] convincing myself that there was no way any bit of my thighs was revealed inappropriately. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Let us not forget, that I made a trip through Hamra, carrying a bouquet of flowers for mother's day, and pulling my skirt down with every step I make. And that I stood for a full ten minutes, listening to the parking guy tell me a poem about mother's day, after having inquired on the recipient of the bouquet. [Of course it was for my mom, who else would it be for, silly?]
Here's the plot of the poem:[At this point, I'm still standing in the middle of the parking lot, a large bouquet of flowers in my hand, and two adorable circles peeking through the stockings] A boy killed his mother to take her heart, and when he found out that she was dead, cried over it, and gave it life again. But to express his sadness, he then decided to plunge a dagger [Oh, the melodrama] into his own heart, before being stopped by his mother's apparently talking heart: "No! Do not kill my heart twice!" [In arabic, it sounded deeper and more poetic.]
Ending the poem, parking guy stared at me for thirty seconds, nodding his head slowly, afflicted by the tragedy of the poem, and exhilarated at his own declamation of it. I nodded my head as well, hoping for him to end the conversation soon.
I didn't really care, for half of the poem had not registered and I needed to get home and check for the potential stocking tears.
And finally, coming back home, *drum-rolls* I looked at my behind in the mirror, to find [much to my satisfied paranoia] two circles of flesh, staring at me through the stockings.
Mom's reaction was: "How many times did you wear those collants? Quel dommage, now you're gonna have to throw them out!"

Mom, I walked through Hamra and the whole of AUB with peekaboo stockings on the back of my thighs, to bring you a bouquet of flowers. I don't know how the whole story fits with mother's day, but I just want to say: Happy mother's day!



Post a Comment

Popular Posts