martha stewart

Martha Stewart, Camel Toe, Amen.

It’s Saturday morning. My mother called at 8:30am as she often will. Since I didn’t pick up the first time, and I know she’ll call again in an hour, I ring her back. She’s talking to me about work and then, in mid sentence, she cuts herself off and begins to talk to my father.

“Don, look at Mahhhhhhtha… I think those pants are too tight for her, don’t you? You can see the outline of her snatch.”

She just said “snatch.”

 

MY MOTHER JUST SAID “SNATCH!”

…as in, her vaginal or labial area, her pubis, her crotch, the center of Martha Stewart’s universe.

 

She also just referenced a familiar term but perhaps doesn’t know this fine slice of the urban dictionary.

I pause. My response to all of this was somewhat reserved and didactic.

 

“Mom, that’s actually called ‘Camel Toe.’”

 

As usual, she yells, and repeats this to my dad (across the house). My poor father just grunts in the background with a small “whatever.” He’s a very strong man and will likely be honored in sainthood when the time comes.

 

We honor the almighty Martha, for her recipes, crafts, and camel toe… forever and everrrrrr.

Amen.