Women’s Festival

It is the season. My mom used to take me to our local women’s festival during my tender tween years. We would go to psychic seminars and almost get kicked out because our social anxiety manifested into giggles. It is one of the few positive mother daughter activites that I remember now that she is deceased. My little sister was always a little bitter because she wasn’t allowed to come.

This pic has my 13 year old self (fat, pudgy, and nicknamed “Titanic” by my classmates) eating a piece of World’s Finest Chocolate. My mom would have never had her palm read. She would have despised a stranger touching her, but it is symbolic of the experience. There are little lesbian shout outs because that is probably the first place I saw any. My mom made sure to point them out and let me know how she didn’t approve.

Lucky for me, I was able to figure out the truth for myself.