My Mom Stays Young by Angering Me
Language: en
I’d just crashed after a marathon work session when my mom dragged me out of bed at the crack of dawn to go to the supermarket. The cashier at the beauty counter mistook us for sisters and showered us with compliments. My mom just laughed and explained we were mother and daughter. The cashier’s eyes went wide. Her tone was a strange mix of awe and pity. “You look more like the daughter…” I froze. I turned and stared at the two faces reflected in the mirror behind the counter. My mom’s skin was firm and smooth, like a twenty-year-old college student’s. The face next to hers—mine—was…