We're going to this terrific little restaurant in the Village called Trattoria da Alfredo. I kind of have it worked out in my mind how to do it.

She absolutely has to let me go to Fire Island. Most of my clothes are just nowhere, full of lumps and bumps in all the wrong places, and I'm really in the mood to make a big thing about my wardrobe with my mother, but the plain fact is I can't risk angering her tonight of all nights. My knit skirt hangs down half a mile longer in the back than in the front, and my red dressy sweater itches. I can't imagine why I was so crazy to buy it, it's positively disgusting and I look like a giant baby doll in it.

Sure there's a lot of bulk in my closet but it's all horrendous. Now I want you to know that I'm not just being difficult. This is a good restaurant.” And with that irrelevant information, she leaves the room. “I have nothing to wear” That wasn't my mother. Now I'm peeking through at my mother, who is getting more aggravated than she sounded. I push through all kinds of hanging things, past clumps of dusty shoes, and shopping bags stuffed with scraps of suede from when I was going to make a patchwork skirt, and wool from my crocheting projects, and old letters from summer camp. I can hear her but I can't see through all this junk. “Victoria, come on, move it! The reservation's for seven thirty.” Actually if my closet were neater, it would have been hanging up, and then she'd have seen it and certainly would have borrowed it and lent it to her friend, and they're so jerky they absolutely would have lost it so you see I wasn't wrong in accusing her. She does enough other awful things, so she could have done this too. It's got to be a good dress, but not my best in case I have to throw myself dramatically out of my chair and pound the dirty floor in a tantrum.Īmazing, I just found a great skirt I haven't seen since I accused my sister Nina of borrowing it and lending it to one of her friends who I was certain had lost it. This is going to be a tough fight, all uphill, and I have to look just right, kind of sweet/cute but also old/sophisticated, and I can't find the right dress to wear. She knows this is when I plan to talk to my parents about the summer and she wants to make as much trouble as she can. “I have nothing to wear!” I have to scream because I am buried four feet into the bottom of my closet hunting for some scrap of something to wear out tonight for the big dinner with my parents and the gnome, who unfortunately insisted on coming along even though she hates Italian food, especially since I believe I may have mentioned to her sometime or another that it all has squid and octopus in itâalive! She still practically gags at the thought of Italian food, but no, she wouldn't stay home tonight.

Love & other disasters book