My ma has a habit that I find stupendously annoying. It can ricochet me from zero to crazy lunatic rage within approx two seconds. It involves reaching towards me and adjusting my clothes somehow. Tugging my skirt down. Straightening my cardigan. Pulling at my hem. Grasping those stupid little loop things that clothing manufacturers put on every damn thing. You know what I'm on about.
She's always on the look out for imperfection and, as I'm the kind of gal who very often puts clothes on inside out and has been known to wear the same dress four times in a week, there is plenty to pick on. I'm just not very smart. I never have been and am pretty sure I never will be.
I can be if I make a real effort. Like, I am an adult. I can brush my hair and iron stuff. I just choose not to a lot of the time. Mostly because if I'm going to walk the dog or on my way to the gym I couldn't give a flying fuck. I don't care. As long as all my parts are covered and I'm not flashing anyone then we're good. No one is looking at me anyway. No one notices and, if they do, they will have the same reaction I do when I pass someone I think looks a bit shit. They'll go: "She looks a bit shit" in their head for a nanosecond and then go back to thinking about whatever they were thinking about before.
It is, in short, not fucking important.
I resent it as you can tell.
However, it is only my ma who does this to me so when she's not around I'm usually safe. Unless my top is inside out - then someone else might comment but that's fair enough really. I mean, I do want to be told if I look like a total tool or I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe or something. I'm not that much of a tramp.
But the other day I was in the post office. My mother was nowhere in sight. I didn't pay that much attention to what I'm wearing, it's true, but I was definitely all covered up. Nothing was showing. Nothing was out. I'm minding my own business when this old dear sidles up to me with her arm outstretched and before I can recoil in horror is YANKING my clothes around. Actually touching me without my consent. Pulling my cardigan around as she says: "Just straightening your jumper dear" like it was NORMAL. I was in shock. I would never ever EVER touch a stranger in any way, shape or form. I might tell them if their skirt is hitched up and they're showing their ass (also happened to me - very grateful for that lady I was) but I wouldn't straighten their collar or pull at their skirt.
So shocked I was that I couldn't even frame a response - which should, of course, have been along the lines of: "What in holy fuck do you think you're doing you lunatic?" - other than sort of skipping away like a startled baby elephant and running away as quickly as possible.
Clearly I'm going to have to start paying more attention the straightness of my hemmage in future as I appear to have moved to bizarro world.
If you're a granny or a lady of a certain age, don't give in to these urges. Just restrain yourself because one day you'll get a reaction you're not happy with. You weirdos.