I have to go wig shopping. This time I’m not dressing up as the other woman to keep things hot in the cold category of matrimony. Nay. I need a double rainbow bob or a ponytail of braids, paired with a plastic skirt that resembles an opened umbrella. I somewhat believe in dressing appropriately for your age, save for when you’re daughter is 7, and you’re hotfooting her off to her first concert. Phil gifted us tickets, mother-daughter bonding, for Katy Perry’s Prismatic World Tour, and “By the Grace of God” (a Katy Perry song) I’m going to make it a magical memory for our girl. I’m downloading all the songs I’ve seen on the set list and loading them into the car playlist, and I’m now on the hunt for fun outfits for us to wear—a gossamer veil pricked with butterflies perhaps?
Because at the end of the day, and life, I want to be remembered as the mama who lived out loud. Who did crazy, who went a little wild, who didn’t care so much what other people thought, who always knew how to make her own fun, and who taught her daughter how to live that way, too.
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