Gahh
So I was in this really excellent mood when I got home tonight, because I spent some time with Don and he pretty much always puts me in a good mood. Then I walk in the door and Mom's there. Lately she has this disability... where she can't say anything good about me or to me. It's really, really annoying. Today, for example, I walk in the door, and she doesn't greet me with "How was the ceremony?" or "How's Don tonight?" or even "Hi." No, instead she greets me with an accusory "So what happened tonight?" Apparently no one has informed my mother that communication takes two people to work, because she believes it's all my fault. Apparently, she has major issues with me getting a ride from someone. I have no idea why. I called Dad(well, I was going to call but he called me first) to let him know I was getting a ride, which is more than Julie did.
Oh, wait. I just figured out why she doesn't like that. She wanted me to call Dad and get him to come home early. Sheesh Mom, I'm his freaking daughter. It shouldn't be my job to help him get over his issues with overworking and the results of that overworking.
Next she started harping on my acne. Yeah, it's gotten pretty bad lately... I don't know why, and quite frankly, the only time I care is when she nags me about it. She's constantly trying to buy me new soaps and whatnot. "I'm only trying to help," she says in this false hurt voice when I am entirely uncooperative with her attempts to turn me into a perfect-looking daughter. If she really wants to help, shouldn't she be telling me how beautiful I am on the inside, or how I'll always be beautiful to her no matter how many zits and pimples I have? But no, instead she "helps" by pointing out all my imperfections. Thank you, Mother, I was so not aware of them before you brought it up.
Argh. If it wasn't for Julie and my friends, I'd like to leave tomorrow.
Oh, wait. I just figured out why she doesn't like that. She wanted me to call Dad and get him to come home early. Sheesh Mom, I'm his freaking daughter. It shouldn't be my job to help him get over his issues with overworking and the results of that overworking.
Next she started harping on my acne. Yeah, it's gotten pretty bad lately... I don't know why, and quite frankly, the only time I care is when she nags me about it. She's constantly trying to buy me new soaps and whatnot. "I'm only trying to help," she says in this false hurt voice when I am entirely uncooperative with her attempts to turn me into a perfect-looking daughter. If she really wants to help, shouldn't she be telling me how beautiful I am on the inside, or how I'll always be beautiful to her no matter how many zits and pimples I have? But no, instead she "helps" by pointing out all my imperfections. Thank you, Mother, I was so not aware of them before you brought it up.
Argh. If it wasn't for Julie and my friends, I'd like to leave tomorrow.