The Right Kind of Spa
Lately Mother has been acting even more insane than usual. To the point of calling me 3x’s a day to see if I’ve decided on where to go for my Masters.
Yesterday, during her ritual third call that morning, I unceremoniously exploded. Shouting obscenities (which she apparently did not appreciate at all) about the obvious double standards she has enforced my entire life when it came to Lil Bro and I, and just generally flipping the fuck out.
She did the Mom-guilt-trip-thing (which she has perfected) and said, "Well I apologize for raising you so poorly and making your entire childhood a living hell."
"You should be! Nothing has ever been good enough for you. Nothing!" I shrieked very maturely. "Lil Bro announces he’s not going to college and wants to live with you while he works and you’re all ‘Good for you!’ and I say I might want to take a year off from school to travel and you ride my ass for weeks at a time!"
She denied ever riding my ass and actually said, "I can’t pat you on the back all the time."
"No Mom. But a little slack every once in awhile would go a long fucking way."
The conversation/bitch-match went on like that for some time until she hung up on me.
I was furious. Called Chris. Bitched. Took a shower. Went to work.
I studiously avoided her the entire night until she sauntered on into my cubicle to ask me some b/s question about my dog and when I did little more than nod and growl she asked like the biggest snot, "What’s wrong with you?"
I ignored her until she went away.
Needing some sort of comfort, I called Boyfriend and asked if I could crash with him. I spent the night listening to him snore and wondering what we’d been fighting about for months.
In retrospect the whole serene scene was probably so relaxing only set next to the overly-dramatic foil of being in any place where my mother could invade without preamble.
Anyway, this morning when Boyfriend left for work (Did I mention he’s a cop?) he gave me a big hug (which was actually kind of painful with his kevlar vest on) and told me to stay as long as I want.
I did.
I lounged around his cheerily mannish apartment in a pair of boxers and a tank top the entire day eating Salsa and watching Queer Eye For A Straight Guy: LasVegas. I called Chris when I recognized one of the Caesars Palace guard guys from our trip and babbled about him flexing. I hit the punching bag I bought Boyfriend for our last anniversary and drank more Mountain Dew than I care to think about.
It was fabulous. Like a spa without all the spa-ish things. Without people rushing to grope your feet and critique your pores.
I didn’t think about Mom or Masters programs or anything besides gay guys and palace guards all day. It was the fucking highlight of my week. I was so relaxed.
And then I came to work, got called into Mom’s office, prepared myself for an epic tongue-lashing about being the gigantic failure she seems to think I am and instead was told my Aunt has cancer.
Well shit.
Not to be selfish but…fuck. That ruined my perfectly shallow day.
Yesterday, during her ritual third call that morning, I unceremoniously exploded. Shouting obscenities (which she apparently did not appreciate at all) about the obvious double standards she has enforced my entire life when it came to Lil Bro and I, and just generally flipping the fuck out.
She did the Mom-guilt-trip-thing (which she has perfected) and said, "Well I apologize for raising you so poorly and making your entire childhood a living hell."
"You should be! Nothing has ever been good enough for you. Nothing!" I shrieked very maturely. "Lil Bro announces he’s not going to college and wants to live with you while he works and you’re all ‘Good for you!’ and I say I might want to take a year off from school to travel and you ride my ass for weeks at a time!"
She denied ever riding my ass and actually said, "I can’t pat you on the back all the time."
"No Mom. But a little slack every once in awhile would go a long fucking way."
The conversation/bitch-match went on like that for some time until she hung up on me.
I was furious. Called Chris. Bitched. Took a shower. Went to work.
I studiously avoided her the entire night until she sauntered on into my cubicle to ask me some b/s question about my dog and when I did little more than nod and growl she asked like the biggest snot, "What’s wrong with you?"
I ignored her until she went away.
Needing some sort of comfort, I called Boyfriend and asked if I could crash with him. I spent the night listening to him snore and wondering what we’d been fighting about for months.
In retrospect the whole serene scene was probably so relaxing only set next to the overly-dramatic foil of being in any place where my mother could invade without preamble.
Anyway, this morning when Boyfriend left for work (Did I mention he’s a cop?) he gave me a big hug (which was actually kind of painful with his kevlar vest on) and told me to stay as long as I want.
I did.
I lounged around his cheerily mannish apartment in a pair of boxers and a tank top the entire day eating Salsa and watching Queer Eye For A Straight Guy: LasVegas. I called Chris when I recognized one of the Caesars Palace guard guys from our trip and babbled about him flexing. I hit the punching bag I bought Boyfriend for our last anniversary and drank more Mountain Dew than I care to think about.
It was fabulous. Like a spa without all the spa-ish things. Without people rushing to grope your feet and critique your pores.
I didn’t think about Mom or Masters programs or anything besides gay guys and palace guards all day. It was the fucking highlight of my week. I was so relaxed.
And then I came to work, got called into Mom’s office, prepared myself for an epic tongue-lashing about being the gigantic failure she seems to think I am and instead was told my Aunt has cancer.
Well shit.
Not to be selfish but…fuck. That ruined my perfectly shallow day.
Labels: Completely Unrelated Rantings, The Boyfriend (duh Duh DUH)
This entry was posted
on 14.6.06 at 7:14 PM.
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