“Ain’t that sweet,” Mom gushes, “It’s gorgeous, honey. In fact, I’d probably be houndin’ you to borrow it if I thought it’d fit me.” She chuckles and turns to Adrian. “I’ve been an extra-small my whole life. Only time I wasn’t was when I was pregnant with Poppy here. Poor girl got her father’s hips, though. We haven’t been able to trade clothes since she was thirteen.” And there it is. The backhanded compliment I knew was coming. I suppose it’s a good thing she didn’t see my red-bottomed shoes. She’d aim for my foot size next.
gods, I hate women like this
