Don’t worry, my mom wasn’t racist.  That title will make sense soon, I promise.  A lot of people know this already, but I had a wee bit of a goth phase as a late teen.  Mom really didn’t take to it at first, wondering why I dressed in all black (or as she called it…”The black.”  See?  I told you it would make sense.).  After much begging, I convinced her to dye my hair, though not with permanent dye.  I loved how it turned out, and I’m not sure if she was legit ok with it, or if she just saw how happy it made me but she ran with it after that.

She would routinely dye my hair (with permanent dye), and even bought me pants and shit with chains all over them.  She asked me what my obsession was with black clothing and everything.  I told her that I just thought it looked cool.  That’s all there was too it.  Yeah, I was an angsty teen, but I just happened to think goth shit looked cool.  She really didn’t bug me about it much after that.

When I left for college immediately after high school, I stayed gothed out as much as possible.  Whenever I came home, she’d dye my hair again.  She even took me to get my ear pierced (I was wearing a magnetic earring at the time, and she said “You may as well go all out.”).  For Easter that year, she bought an Easter basket, spray painted it back, and sent it to me as a care package.  All my friends at college thought I had the coolest mom ever (Little did they know that I really fucking DID have the coolest mom ever).

After I flunked out of my first college attempt, I had to move back home.  One of my college friends decided to pay me a visit after about a year (The college was about 4 hours away from my house, and the friend lived about 2 hours away from there).  Mom told me after he left that she was tempted to get a black wig and find a black shirt to wear when he came over.

That’s just who she was.  Yeah, she had the stereotypical mom fear of things that didn’t fit in her bubble…but she would stop to ask you about it.  She was always open to new ideas.  She never judged anyone.  Well, I think she judged me a little when I tried black nail polish one time and ended up with a big black stain on one of her tables, but that’s neither here nor there.

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