Saw this on the Women at Forbes page and…sorry, I had to…
I’m done being shitty about Mother’s Day, though, I promise.
Saw this on the Women at Forbes page and…sorry, I had to…
I’m done being shitty about Mother’s Day, though, I promise.
Yesterday my mother implied that I’m gonna die if I don’t watch my weight, so I’m not really feelin’ all this “wind beneath my wings” bullshit today.
I AM, however, feelin’ this cream cheese layering a glorious, salty spackle over my hurt feelings.
Happy Mother’s Day!
My mom isn’t saying I need to lose weight, but since I mentioned it earlier, just so I know, So-and-So just died of a heart attack at age 43 because she was overweight.
She also had high blood pressure and smoked, which Mom knows I don’t do, but… just, you know… “It’s not just about vanity.”
“Well, yeah, but my health is fine at this weight. Blood pressure, cholesterol, it’s all perfect.”
“Yeah, I know, but you have to keep it that way.”
So I guess “Don’t get any fatter” is the sage wisdom getting passed down through the generations this Mother’s Day?
Cool. Noted. Someone put that shit on a Hallmark card.
And it was on the way out the door, too. My mom is a fucking MASTER of the emotional drive-by.
“I wasn’t trying to say you need to lose weight.”
“I really don’t know what else you could’ve been trying to say, Mom.”
“Alright…”
Aaand SCENE. Her husband got in the car and drove them away.
We win at communication.
P.S. Why, yes, she DID send me home with cake and soft pretzels, why do you ask?
“This Mother’s Day, get Mom the gift of…one of the most fucked up mother-daughter relationships in history. You’re welcome. We’re Target.”
Show me all the Mother’s Day jewelry and flower ads you want, but I just realized the “perfect gift” for MY mom this year will be a gift certificate to my therapist.
Suck it, Pandora bracelets.
I debated being a jackass and posting that I’ll be spending Mother’s Day making it rain disposable, childless income on fancy brunch cocktails and new Lush products. And, don’t get me wrong, that IS what I’m doing today.
But also: Serious, non-snarky props to all my mom friends. I hate most children because I hate most people, but your kids are the best because YOU’RE the best. So thanks for raising a new generation of non-assholes. ‘Cause we all know if *I* were the one endeavoring to “teach them well and let them lead the way,” my kid would be a complete dick — he’d be late for school every day and have unexplained Cheetos in his unwashed hair.
So, as for us fruitless non-multipliers… Y’all wanna go get hammered at noon and then go buy some motherfuckin’ high-end soaps?
WE RIDE!
Today a relative who doesn’t know me very well saw me happily playing with a family baby and said, “Aw, Auntie Smug! It’s your turn next!”
*deep breath*
No, Uncle Fuckface, it’s not. But thanks, it’s been a while since I felt shitty about it.
(I’m fine, but I AM going to drink heavily and pass out in my underpants, because whatever, no one’s gonna wake me up demanding anything.)
Happy Mother’s Day to all my bad-ass mom friends, who let me snuggle their children and never make me feel defective. Your kids are amazing, and they have you to thank.
Woke up from a dream in which I was taking Dollar Store pregnancy tests. But they looked like tampon applicators, and had all different animal faces. Mine was a tiger, but there were also pandas and other vaginal menagerie. I was trying to figure out how to use them, because the instructions told me to *insert* them, but I’ve taken a pregnancy test before, so I know you’re supposed to pee on them.
Um… Happy Mother’s Day?
I wish I could remember which friends were with me in the bathroom. I’d love to give a special shout-out to whomever my subconscious thinks I’m close enough to that I’d let them see me take a pregnancy test.