Just put on a little lipstick

Years ago I was watching the stand-up act of a comedian that I think eventually gained a role on Sabrina, The Teenage Witch as a zany aunt. Don't ask how I know this. Anyway, she said that there were times when her life spiraled out of control, with debts mounting and her personal life in shambles. Completely despondent, she would call her mom in the hopes that her mother would provide some solace, dispensing some comforting maternal wisdom as mothers are inclined to do. Instead, her mother would only advise her to "Just put on a little lipstick", anticipating that her problems would miraculously dissipate due to the measured application of a nice bit of slap.

I think my mother is increasingly displaying this attitude, and I find it quite worrying not to mention highly irritating. I had a phone call from her today, and as I've mentioned in a previous post, my mother is the queen of random, poorly-phrased queries regarding my fertility. Today she was rambling about the foot of snow that is expected to fall within the next day and how the supermarket was picked over as a result of anxious people believing that if they did not buy 10 gallons of water prior to the onset of the storm that their lifeless, dehydrated corpses would be found once the snow was cleared in a day or so. After this commentary she paused for about 10 seconds and said casually, "So, how is the fertility?" I told her it was broke (I know that's not grammatically correct, but there is something I find quite humorous in using "broke" vs "broken"), whereupon she came up with her usual misguided ruminations on the issues of infertility.

Mom: "Well...how about this. My chiropractor said that he had a patient recently that just spent $40,000 on IVF and other assorted infertility treatments. She had one appointment with him, and presto...she was pregnant two months later. Why don't you try and find a chiropractor? You never know unless you try and it may just work!"

Apparently my mom does not grasp that there are a multitude of other factors that could have contributed to the surprise pregnancy, and that a brief daliance with a chiropractor does not a pregnancy make. That, and the insinuation was that all this time being pumped with random medications, injected with hormones and brief yet constant interludes with a lovely wand I know was a waste, because all I needed was a bit of a back crack.

I think for my next Good Lady Cooter Poker appointment I'll just put on a little lipstick. I'll never know unless I try, and it may just work!

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