"Ordinary"was the worst word my mothercould find for anything. I remember her taking meshopping and taking no notice of the shop assistantswhen they suggested that some dresses or pair ofshoes were very popular——"We've sold fifty alreadythis week". That was all she needed to hear.
"No", she would say. " We're not interestedin that. Haven't you got something a little moreunusual?" And then the assistant would bring out allthe strange colours no one else would buy. And latershe and I would argue because I wanted to beordinary but my mother wanted to be unusual.
"I can't stand that hairdo. "She said, when Iwent to the hairdresser with my friend and cameback with a boyhaircut, " It is so terriblyordinary." Not ugly, not unsuitable. But ordinary...
"Couldn't you please wear something else? Iasked one day when she was dressing for Parents'Day in tight,fitting bullfight's pants and a brightpink sweater." What's wrong with what I'mwearing?What wasn't wrong with it! It's justthat I wish you'd wear something ordinary," I said."Something that people won't laugh at." She lookedat me angrily and then said,"Are you ashamed ofyour own mother? If you are, Laura, I feel sorryfor you. I really do. "