The jig is up

I called my parents’ home phone while I walking to the subway tonight.

Mom: Hello…

Me (sensing a certain tone, I opted for brevity): Hi!

Mom: I’M NOT HAPPY ABOUT THAT PICTURE YOU POSTED ON FACEBOOK.

Me: Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

(so loud everyone at the intersection of 14th and 2nd in Manhattan looked for the weirdo)

My mother finally saw the picture of her I posted on Facebook Sunday. I didn’t tag her in it so I was curious to see how long it would take for her to see it. She doesn’t like having her photo taken, much less having it out there in the cy-ber-world. She thinks she looks old.

This is the picture.

 

Forty of my Facebook friends and counting have clicked like. I think she looks fabulous, but as her daughter, I recognize that I’m biased.

When one of Mom’s friends commented on the photo, gushing I knew the jig was up.

 

I called home again when I got to my apartment.

Mom: I’m on my cell phone with _____. I’ll call you back.

Me: How’d you find out about the photo?

Mom: One of my friends.

And then she hung up on me. She’s not calling back.

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