I was driving my 20-year-old son to class this morning, when I nearly ran the car into a wall.
It wasn’t my fault, and I’ll explain why. And you’ll agree with me that I was provoked.
He was sitting in the passenger seat next to me, staring at his fingernails.
If you’ve ever been around young people, you might say to yourself, “Well, at least he wasn’t staring at his phone.” And that is true.
However, the words that came out of his mouth next nearly made me drive off the road.
“Mom, I really need to get a manicure.”
Now, there are young men out there who care deeply about their sartorial splendor, and such a phrase would not be shocking. But my son has always been the quintessential jock, who would come in from football practice smelly, leave his socks in the living room, and throw his clothes on the floor to be worn again the next day.
When I heard him complain about the state of his cuticles, I worried about the state of our country. Some of you out there might be concerned about global warming, or all the foam going into the ocean, or the fact that no one under the age of 50 goes to church anymore.
But I worry about the new obsession with male grooming. I really hate to say these things, because I don’t want to paint myself as one of those old ladies who gripes about how everything’s different than it was in her heyday. You know the ones I’m talking about.
“Yes, ma’am, the library doesn’t have the latest edition of the Random House Dictionary, but you may have heard of something that replaced it. It’s called the Internet.”
Honestly, things change and you just have to roll with it, or else just sit home and knit doilies all day long. Are you listening to me, my friends? Yes, you used to be able to get a shrimp…