I think this may have to be a new weekly post on the blog. Since it keeps happening, I am assuming the pattern will continue.
While at a local restaurant (yes, I am now realizing how many sentences I have started this way), we were chatting it up with one of the owners with whom we have been friendly for over a year. We aren’t best friends forever, but she is kind of loud and sometimes funny and I like that in a person. Back to family brunch- There we are, enjoying our grits and fruit and eggs and said owner comes and sits down. After a few minutes of catching up about her children’s lives, the restaurant and about us, we started talking about M and his luscious surfer curls.
Owner lady looks at S and, trying to determine the origin of such enviable locks, says, “Well, he’s half yours, isn’t he?”
The other “half” she was referring to was not me.
S looked at her kind of stunned for what felt like 2 minutes, but was really about 4 seconds, “Uh…I gave birth to him, if that is what you mean. He’s half Betsy’s, too.”
“Yeah. I thought so,” she replies without blinking.
The shit that comes out of people’s mouths is astonishing sometimes, like their question is so important it doesn’t matter who may or may not be offended in the asking. To be honest, I wasn’t totally offended. Because this woman is brash, it came as no surprise that she said what she said. If we were closer friends, I would have said something to her and I am sure her response would have been (after a playful punch to the arm), “Oh you know what I mean, loser!” Yes, loser. I know what you mean.
*For those of you not from the U.S., y’all is a very southern term referring to ‘you all’. We like to speak with as few letters as possible down here.