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My mom, ‘ma’ I always called her, used to drag me shopping with her since I was just a little boy.  She used to drag me around for hours and hours around 34th Street, going from Macy’s, to Gimbel’s, to Korvette’s.  I never knew when the madness was going to end.  Of course, being the good son that I was, I carried some of the bags for her, and told her that she looked good in this and that.  She used to make me sit right beside the changing room and ask one of the cashiers to watch me while she went to try something on.  I sat on the floor, picked my nose, rolling up the snot in a tight little ball, and blended it in the carpet, all while the old eighteen-year old lady cashier watched me from a distance.   I did this until I grew so restless my fingers grew numb, and my thoughts wandered.  I wondered what made snot green.  I wondered why Santa was a fat man.  I wondered how many other women were in the dressing rooms.

When no one was looking, I would glance in one of the rooms and try to peek at some unsuspecting victim.  Once in a while, I would catch some woman’s naked ankles beneath the shutter doors.  Hey, at the age of eight, that is a pretty big deal.  Moments later, ma would rush out of another room and ask for confirmation.  I would nod, she rushed back in, changed, came back out, grabbed me, and proceeded to the cashier.  It was the same from store to store.

At the end of the day, is the midst of my drawn out weary-sorry-buttock state, she would bring me to the toy department.  I was allowed to choose out one toy.  It was now my turn to go shopping.  Bliss – Pure bliss.
 

 

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