Mom’s Forceful Clothing Donations

One of the things my mom likes to do every time I come to visit (other than stuff me full of food) is to pluck something out of her closet and try to give it to me (since she loves to give people clothes, whether or not they actually fit the recipient). She always has something that’s either newly purchased or bought but never worn that sits in her room awaiting my next visit. When I flew to Michigan in October, she tried to pawn a few things onto me.

Mom: “You wear skuht [skirt]?”

Me: “Uh, well, I guess if I’m going somewhere nice maybe I’ll wear–”

Mom: “Good! Now you lost weight, I have skuht for you.” She disappeared into her bedroom, my boyfriend laughing at the backhanded remark. I sighed and assumed that my mom has been itching to gift this incredible piece of clothing to me but was forced to wait until I lost 15 pounds.

She emerged with a black poly-nylon knee-length skirt. The front had some sort of jeweled gathering. It looked very much unlike something I’d wear (I work from home, so “dressing up” for me is putting on jeans and a sweater).

Mom: “See? Nice, right?”

Me: “Uh, I guess I’ll try it on.”

I went into the bathroom and yanked on the skirt. It smelled like a Korean lady blend of sweet-scented perfume and vague spices and had a Korean label I couldn’t read. I checked myself out in the mirror to see how it looked and was dismayed to see that the fit of the skirt resulted in the complete disappearance of my ass. I didn’t think it was possible for an article of clothing to actually give you the Asian No-Butt look, but this skirt managed to succeed.

I trotted out, looking like Ralphie in the pink bunny suit.

Mom: “You look nice!”

Me: “I dunno know, it fits kind of weird…”

Mom: “Noooo, it’s supposed to look like that! Very nice.”

Me: “Uh, well…Jas?” I looked over at Jason, desperate for some help here.

Jason, uneasy: “It’s…not something you generally wear.” He had also noted the Flat Butt Syndrome.

Mom: “Okay, I have other things.” She disappeared again and emerged with a gigantic purse. “You like? Nice, huh?”

Me: “Yeah, it’s nice.”

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Me: “I don’t need a purse, I already have one.” I pointed to my small brown purse resting in the front entryway.

Mom, scowling: “That purse too small for you! That’s a Mommy-sized purse! You need BIG purse.”

What the hell?! First I was thin enough to fit into the Butt Squasher and now I’m so fat I need a purse the size of a duffel bag?

Me: “No, it’s okay, you keep it.”

Mom, going into all-out salesman mode: “Real leather. See?”

Me: “I see that, yeah.”

Mom, opening the purse and gesturing grandly with her hand: “Look at liner. Really nice.”

At this point I was suppressing giggles. She was getting really pushy with this purse.

Me: “No, really, you keep it. It’s okay.”

Mom: “Okay.” She retreated back into her room to put the purse away and I sighed with relief, hoping that I’d finally survive a trip to Michigan without my mother pawning some article of clothing onto me…

…and then she emerged with a handful of jackets.

Mom: “You going to Denver next, right? It’s cold there, you need good jock-it!”

Oh lord.

She made me try on a few different coats, including a too-short (my long arms and torso aren’t really made for petite Asian sizes) white puffy quilted monstrosity that made me look like the Michelin Man.

I finally threw Mom a bone and accepted a thin black jacket with sweater material arms. She nodded, satisfied that her daughter wouldn’t freeze to death thanks to her motherly intervention. The next time I see her, I fully expect her to try and give me a dress, a snowsuit, some pants, and a trenchcoat, none of which will fit me.