doll.jpgMy mother related this darling little anecdote to me yesterday.  Seems she was out to lunch with her bowling lady friends on Friday, and when she took her wallet out to pay for her $3.99 Chinese rice plate, it fell open to a photograph of my daughter.  “Who’s that?” said one of her nosy BLFs.  “My granddaughter,” she said.  Pause.  They squinted more closely at the picture.  Wheels turning in their brains.  “Hmm,” said one of them.  “She doesn’t look anything like you!” (translation: she doesn’t look Asian)  My mother said, “Well.  Susan was adopted.”

Response:   “Really!  We didn’t know Susan wasn’t your daughter!”

My mother said, “She is my daughter.  But she was adopted.”

Wow. They didn’t even say I wasn’t her “REAL” daughter.  They actually implied that I wasn’t her daughter at ALL.

She’s 84.  I’m 47.  It never ends.