My mom and I always had a conflicted relationship. Despite being told how horrible I was my entire childhood/adolescence, I never really did anything wrong. I never even skipped a class until my junior year of high school, and the only thing I did during that time was walk down the street to buy rose-scented temporary tattoos. I never even had a serious boyfriend until my senior year of high school, and then did rebellious things like taking pictures for the school yearbook with him, and going to the school's games. The first time I did anything vaguely scandalous was after my 30th birthday, and that horrible act was to try pot for the first time. I'm such a risk taker!
During my straight-laced life, I used to do little things to prove my mom wrong. I watched color television at friends houses (she was sure they caused cancer, and, to my knowledge, has still never owned a color TV), dared to eat meat and drink milk DURING THE SAME MEAL, and stared at the sun whenever her harping got to be too much for me, which was fairly often.
Looking back, it's probably a good thing that I lived in the Pacific Northwest for half of my childhood, so there weren't as many sunny days. Somehow I've made it to my mid thirties only needing glasses for a mild astigmatism and 20/30 vision. As for her other rules, I'm still tempting fate by wearing sunscreen, watching color TVs, and owning a microwave. I'm sure she's praying that it bites me in the ass someday.