Dad took me in for an infusion on Monday. I was leaning like a Chola in a major way. Dad dropped me off at the curb so he could park the car. (Or he was totally embarrassed to be seen with his daughter who is slowly metamorphosing into Jabba the Hut!) As I held the concrete column up for the building, I caught a glimpse of myself in the windows. I was representin' with one of my 5th Grade Hutto Hippos Rock T-shirts, my husband's long shorts with the ever expanding elastic waistband, white ankle socks and tennis shoes. I saw what I was. I was trying not to panic at the person staring at me in the mirrored glass. Dumb people! Who keeps windows and glass doors that clean anyways!?!?!
"Dad! I totally look like a dude!" I practically yelled at him as if it was his fault. Well, I stifled it as best I could. I was feeling pretty puny, so it probably came out as more of a matter of fact like statement. I was yelling in the inside though.
My father, the man who has loved me from the second he was surprised by the news I was coming, abruptly corrected me, "NO, Kiddo! You look like Pat!" Thanks, Dad, for keeping it real! I just love you to pieces!
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