BEAUTY SHOP TALK

by

Vicki Charmaine Bunch

Prom. The magical evening every girl dreams of--when she'll dress up like a princess in a storybook only to cast her virtue against the vomit-splattered tuxedo pants of a mediocre high school linebacker with a C+ average in Spanish.

And what about me, her mother? I spend $150 on a dress, $65 on shoes, and $12.99 on a spikey dog collar at Petsmart and this is the thanks I get? Is this why I breast-fed her for 13 months, sacrificing any chance I ever had of becoming an exotic dancer?

My precious daughter will be driven to her doom in a Dodge Ram limo like a curly-headed lamb headed for the slaughter. Destinee's always wanted to ride in a limo, just like the next of kin, and now she'll get her chance.

Just like at a funeral. And Mama's just as sad. Like a wedding and a funeral combined--the crying family, the slutty negligee, the case of Natural Light. Like a wedding except that, instead of bridal showers and lots of presents, Destinee's likely to get a venereal disease. Like a funeral except that, instead of everybody sending flowers, Clint's old girlfriend will probably egg the house.

"Why do y'all have to shack up in some motel?" I said. "Haven't you ever heard of the back seat of a car?"

When Destinee replied, "Everybody does it," I wasn't sure exactly what she meant. (And I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.) All I could do was stand there wringing the tears out of the cup towel I was supposed to be drying dishes with. "Do you want your father to give you away?" I cried.

"Get off it, Mother," Destinee said and headed for her room. She only calls me "mother" when she's mad.

"I can't help it," I said, following her down the hall. "I always cry when a daughter of mine sacrifices her purity and doesn't even get a wedding ring in the bargain." She slammed the door in my face and turned the stereo up loud. "It's bad enough that someday you'll probably have to sleep with a man," I yelled. "Don't do it now for free."

That song about thong panties was blaring, the one the seniors picked as their class song. "You can get just as pregnant at the Worthington as you can get at the Motel 6. And the stretch marks are just as deep."

She just better make sure Sonny doesn't find out. There's no telling what a father might do. The worst prom incident in Axel history occurred several years ago when Ernestine Gill saw Natalie Rogers and Dustin Jones at the Caravan Motel and called Natalie's daddy to say they had eloped. Herb went down there with a loaded .22 and beat on every door until he found their room. He tied Dustin up in the bed of the pick-up truck and drove him home in his underwear. Then he sent Natalie to live with her grandmother outside of Whitt. There wasn't a man under 80 in a ten mile radius. The girl's 26 and still not married.

On second thought, maybe it's better than winding up an old maid.

At least she'll get a free shower cap--which is more than most of us can say.