Seven Words No One Ever Wants to Hear Their Mother Say

"I put some videos of myself online."

And if that's not bad enough..."wanna see?"

My mama, like me, loves to sing. But unlike me who limits singing to serenading my steering wheel, bar of soap, and husband (not at the same time), she has subscribed to a karaoke web site. The site has the music to lots of songs so the user can record themselves singing the words for all the Internet to hear. And now? She has a web cam. So she can exhibit both her vocal prowess as well as her mad dancing skills.

Or...something.

We're on the phone and she encourages me to watch her latest video in which she has discovered that she can TURN THE CAMERA to face somewhere other than the computer chair. (Isn't technology amazing?) So she doesn't have to limit her dancing to bobbing her head and swaying in her chair. No, she can stand up and have unrestricted movement. Except, the camera doesn't move with her. It's just not that smart. Or else it is that smart and it is trying to minimize the pain inflicted on the viewer.

Yes, the pain. From being doubled over in laughter for the duration of the song.

Picture a woman in her mid-fifties who is wearing a nightgown with un-"done" hair and no makeup. Also, no bra. Singing (but not really because she is no longer facing the computer screen that has the words) "Working my Way Back to You". (I'm not 100% sure this song was the correct one. I have mortification-induced amnesia). At the beginning of the video she isn't sure where the camera is pointing so the only thing you see is one (unbridled) boob (behind the nightgown, obviously). Eventually she backs up and so you can see my mama in all her glory. She starts looking bored with the simple swaying and so she tries out a number of in-place dance moves. Finally she decides to stick with what she knows and begins walking in place like she does during her aerobic walking video. There's some simple marching and some "single, single, double" patterns.

I, still on the phone with my mama during the viewings, try to give compliments to her dance moves and artistic license (including altering the video so you only see her outline in neon green as she sings "It's My Party") while wiping the tears from my face. Meanwhile Victor can't decide whether it is most prudent for him to leave the room, die, or stare in wonder at what he fears his wife may become. Behold, my husband, your future.

As we were getting ready for bed Victor says, "You know, everyone should be more like your mama."