So.... I've officially been traumatized. And fair warning - don't read this if you've got a weak stomach.
I took my MIL out today because I'm the best damn daughter-in-law ever. The plan was to go see the movie Bridesmaids, which was very funny, and then go to a late lunch and then to JC Penney's so we could get her some elastic waist capris.
Oh wait!!! I have to tell you first what that bitch said to me. I came home from work the other day wearing this shirt that is sort of gathered right under my substantial ta tas. It's a perfectly tasteful work shirt, but it definitely emphasizes my rack and is very flattering on me. Ricky said - "Oh Read (and really - I have to sort of use my first name here - it's not Pamela, but it rhymes with that - but somehow she manages to say my name with only two syllables which has annoyed me since the beginning - so really she said - Oh Pam-la) that's a very nice shirt, I really like it. If it were a little smaller, I might take it home with me." Okay - that's just rude no matter who you are and to whom you're speaking, but Hello ding bat!! you're bigger than me.
While at the movies she got up to go to the bathroom (which is completely normal for her) but as she stood up she farted so loudly. OMG Who is that woman? I don't know her, do you know her?? I leaned over to the woman on my other side... can you imagine? I wonder where these crazy people come from?
Then we go to Champs so I can watch the US Open and only have to half listen to her (oops, did I just say that out loud?) She gets fajitas and I get a bbq salmon salad. She has to get up and go to the bathroom several times. At one point she says "you're still eating so I'm not gonna tell you the other reason I'm gonna take the rest of this home." "Okay, good" I say, "I appreciate that." "Scooz me" she says "I'm just gonna go to the bathroom again." When she got back she said "I'm not gonna have any more, not cuz I prolly couldn't go for one more, but... for other reasons." I nodded knowingly and prayed we were done with that topic of conversation. After we eat I suggest we just go home instead of going to Penney's.... you know... for other reasons. But being the shop-o-holic she is she definitely wanted to go to the store.
So anyway... we pick out some pants for her and she went to try them on and the 16s were too small (take that crazy woman! - oh, is that wrong?) and it was the size 1X that fit her. (I did ofter to give her some of the shirts that are now too small for me - is that wrong too??). She asked me to go get her a bigger size of the jeans we'd gotten for her and when I got back she said.... all subdued and whatnot... I'm having a problem, can you find out where the bathroom is. Ut oh. Um, sure. I find out and she says she needs to just sit there for a few minutes and see if it stops before she attempts to stand up. But Pam-la, you can come in here with me if you want... uh.. no, I'm good out here.
Eventually she's ready to go up to the bathroom and tells me she thinks she should probably put on one of these pairs of pants were going to get. "Okay, no problem". I am walking in front of her, leading her slowly to the bathroom. Once it's FINALLY in sight I point it out to her and taking the tags I give her the pants and tell her I'll meet her back there after I've made the purchases. And then... Then... Then... she passed me. And I got a whiff of her. I threw up a little in my mouth. I swear to God. I take a few deep breaths - immediately push it to the back of my brain so I don't have to think about it anymore - and set about to pick up a few more things. A few kitchen towels because that's the department I'm in and she's not freaking sitting unprotected on my car's seat. Then I find some of those reusable bags people shop with for sale and I grab a couple of them - in case she wants to keep her old clothes. I check out and make my way back to her.
As I'm walking down the hall to the woman's room a little girl is coming towards me and says "it smells really, really badly in there, you might not want to go in there." Oh shit! But of course I've got to go in there. It's a good sized bathroom with maybe six stalls and as soon as I walk in I'm blown back by a tsunami of odor the likes of which I pray none of you ever have to face. I immediately start breathing through my mouth and find her in the final stall and throw the bag under the stall as I start to gag. I let her know I'm going to go get the car and will be back to get her in a few minutes. I have to lean over both a sink and the trash can while gagging on my way out - I kid you not.
I get out of there and blindly stumble towards the 'family rest room' which unfortunately is locked. I've got tears streaming down my face and the little girl is there and says "I told you so" OH shut the fuck up little girl. Like I had a choice in the matter.
She threw the clothes away - Thank God, the management had been called while I was getting the car and there was a haz mat crew in the bathroom fumigating it. I had her sit on the thankfully empty bag and was never so thankful I drove a convertible in my life.
My whole body was shaking. I stopped and got an ice cream to drown my sorrows while I was getting the car - I swear I'm going to gain 20 lbs while she's here. But... it's over right. Of course it's not, God Damn It!!
We get home and I make sure she's going to go up and take a bath right away which she is. Afterwards she comes downstairs and wants me to fasten her bra (I swear she keeps forgetting to hook her bra in front then twist it around her body before bringing the straps up). Okay - while I don't want anything to do with her while I'm recovering from my trauma (and yes, I swear I know this was more traumatic for her, but I just don't care at the moment - call me a heartless bitch - I can totally take it) I will of course help her get her bra on if that means she'll go away again for a while. Do you know what she did? She had put her new pants back on her body - seriously. And then!!! she backed her body up to where I was sitting on the chair to give me access to her bra. But OMG. That put her ass at nose level with my face. I fainted dead away right there and then. When I came too, I got up and took care of the bra and she let me know that while she used a little shampoo and a wash cloth to clean the tub, she wondered if I had something stronger she could clean the tub with. I threw up again.
I've made her change her pants and put them and the wash cloth directly into the washing machine and now it's over and all I want to do is curl in a little ball and eat chocolate. I have a bunch of amusing little Ricky-isms to report, but my heart just isn't into it right now. Wish me a speedy recovery.