Hot Mom/Hot Tub
When my mother was seventeen her grandmother told her that men always check a woman's closet for clutter. I grew up surrounded by my mother’s stuff- collections of old catalogs, mountains of unread recipes, and piles of shabby lingerie- all fodder for hours of role-play. By the age of five I awkwardly carried the title “child model.” My mother would drive me to castings in Miami and I’d energetically rehearse the line, “Hello, my name is Samantha Nye, and I’m 7 years old. Here is my right profile...” I often “performed" 7. When I was a teenager my mom loved to whisper the word "sex" just to watch my outburst of uncomfortable laughter.
"Darling", "Honeydew", and "MomMom" are some of the pet names my grandmother responds to. She decorates her house with poodle paintings and anything teal. She hasn’t re-married since her third husband passed but won't say no to a date with a good-looking fellow. When we were young, my brother and I would find MomMom Honey's bras hanging from the shower, stick our heads through the large, damp cups and rub our faces together. My youngest brother called them "huggies."