GREAT Sauvignon Blanc, by the way.

Mom: I’m so sorry about the wine.
Me: Why? It tastes fine to me.
Mom: Well, the label is a bit scandalous, you know.
Me: You mean the naked women? Psh. I don’t think that’s going to give anyone a boner over dinner.
Mom: JENNIFER. WE DO NOT SAY THAT WORD.
Me: Really? I do all of the time. You should try it.
Mom: How am I related to you? I actually tried to tie a ribbon around them so we wouldn’t have to look at their bosoms.
Me: And what happened?
Mom: I don’t know. It wouldn’t stay on.
Me: Just look at it as an anatomy lesson of sorts.
Mom: I don’t really want to look at anyone’s anatomy over my pork chops.
Me: Well, we’ll put the bottle in front of one of the men, then.
Mom: NO! It will make them think lewd thoughts!
Me: I’m not sure the women on the label are representative of anyone’s particular “type". Though most men DO like a woman with a tush, and they seem to abound here.


I felt confident no one was going to start fornicating over the main course because of some rubenesque women frolicking along a label. Perhaps it was all of the wine I had already had. Hard to say. Regardless, we brought the bottle to the table, where immediately one of the men went, “BOOBIES!” to which my dad replied, “WHERE?” And then, to my mother’s mortification, we entered into a ten-minute conversation about everything that she tries to avoid speaking about in her life, namely sex or the mention of hoo-has (which is polite code for VAGINA). The men were enthusiastic. My mother wept into her shirtsleeves. I pulled my shirt up over my head and waved my arms around to distract everyone, which didn’t work. There were naked ladies on the table, after all.


And yes, this is a normal family gathering at my house. Next time, there will be film.