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Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Young Ages in Preston Center...remember?

An old buried memory popped up this morning, that of shopping with my mother as a young child.  Invariably it would be at Young Ages that was located in Preston Center where a string of restaurants have come and gone.  It was on the corner and I'll have to go see what restaurant is currently there.  Can't remember.

Anywho, depending on the time of day and mom's mood, shopping could either go well or head straight for hell with me strapped to it.  Mom's grandiosity would occasionally rear its ugly head to the sales lady and if it did, I knew to go hide in the clothes rounders and pretend she was NOT MY MOTHER.  Oh, HELL NO.  Who IS that lady???

She used to embarrass the crud out of all three of us when she got going and I remember somehow knowing even as a little kid, that my mom's behavior was not OK.  It was like shopping with Lady Astor. Having never worked even a day in her life, mom was always sure the staff was slow and inefficient and that she knew how to do it better.

If it was one of those days, I could count on the fact that we were going to lock horns over every ugly ass dress they had and I was going to be trying them on, too.  Mom even went so far as to buy several of them, over my protest that I was NEVER going to wear "that sack with the big bow on the chest" but buy it she did.  I shoved them as far back in my closet as possible and piled other things in front and over them, so she'd forget they were there.  I'd take the tags off so she'd think they were worn, if  she ever found them.  Once I'd outgrown them, what could she do except pitch them?  Not a damn thing.

Since I was #3, I think she finally figured out her system was not working and that it was easier and more fiscally wise just let me have what I liked.  Seldom was it horrible--certainly no worse than any of her's--and the power struggle finally d-ie-d.  When I got to pick, we were in and out in a heartbeat.

I just remember that there was nothing in this world more fun than driving mom crazy, with my sister as my accomplice, jazzing around and playing, while mom seethed. Those poor sales ladies at Young Ages.  I'm sure they saw it ALL.

Makes me evil laugh just to think about it.

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