Papa Don't Preach; Mama's The Problem
My mom is being a bitch. As per usual. She's self-centered and cranky and she tries to be a martyr to cover up the fact that she's selfish as Hell. She tries to make it sound like she does everything and that everything that goes wrong is my fault, when really it's SO OBVIOUS that it's all about her.
She's constantly on me about exercising. I do kickboxing already, and I enjoy it and I'm good at it, but for some reason she thinks that I'm half-assed about it. She doesn't understand that I just don't have that much stamina and I'm not strong. No matter how many times I try to explain that, it just gets worse. She doesn't ever listen to me. When I tell her that I'm physically incapable of doing anything more, she goes and says, "There must be something wrong with you."
I'm four foot nine and a half inches tall. I weigh eighty nine pounds. I wear a size two and a half shoe. My hands are so tiny the only rings I can wear were originally meant for my toes and I can't wear gloves because they don't make them in small enough sizes. I'm sixteen years old, and I'm done growing. So tell me, Mom, did you really think I'd look like Ahnold?
I'm sure I'm a huge fucking disappointment because I'm not a jock like my little brother. I'm not on the track squad or the soccer team. I can't live up to your stupid expectations. I'm sorry you're a shallow bitch. I'm not sorry that I'm nothing like you. Please take the fast track to Hell and leave me the fuck alone.
She's constantly on me about exercising. I do kickboxing already, and I enjoy it and I'm good at it, but for some reason she thinks that I'm half-assed about it. She doesn't understand that I just don't have that much stamina and I'm not strong. No matter how many times I try to explain that, it just gets worse. She doesn't ever listen to me. When I tell her that I'm physically incapable of doing anything more, she goes and says, "There must be something wrong with you."
I'm four foot nine and a half inches tall. I weigh eighty nine pounds. I wear a size two and a half shoe. My hands are so tiny the only rings I can wear were originally meant for my toes and I can't wear gloves because they don't make them in small enough sizes. I'm sixteen years old, and I'm done growing. So tell me, Mom, did you really think I'd look like Ahnold?
I'm sure I'm a huge fucking disappointment because I'm not a jock like my little brother. I'm not on the track squad or the soccer team. I can't live up to your stupid expectations. I'm sorry you're a shallow bitch. I'm not sorry that I'm nothing like you. Please take the fast track to Hell and leave me the fuck alone.