Your mom is currently at the nail salon, getting her nails done. She's transforming slowly but is unaware.
"So, Stacy, how's the family?" the kindly salon owner says.
"Ugh, don't get me started," your mom says, her bleached hair turning back into its jet-black color. The wrinkles, covered by thousands of dollars of plastic surgery, wash away, like sand off a steel plate.
"What about your wife?" The owner says.
'Wife?' your mom thinks, the mental changes hitting just now. 'I don't... do I? Yeah, of course I do.'
"Oh, she's doing well,"
"Her business doing well?"
"Yes."