Denial, Day 2
“You used to do your hair. What happened? Why don’t you do it anymore?” Mom, 5:37 PM, her car. As if I never do my hair. Like I just have a rat’s nest on top of my head and walk around proudly shunning normal human behavior.
I wanted to tell her that if she has nothing nice to say, then don’t say anything, as this is the advice I have received my entire life when I tried to share MY opinions. However, before I could say anything, she followed up her previous statement with, “I like this dress better on you. The other one looks like a bag.”
I let that sink in. I replied, “Why don’t you let me ask you for your opinions sometimes instead of giving them randomly, when I don’t want them at all?”
And she said, and I quote, “I don’t know. I just assumed you needed to know it looks like you’re wearing a bag.” Oh, okay then. Thanks, I guess.
We spent the day eating and watching murder. I also went to the dentist and made awkward conversation with the dental assistant about Prairie Dogs while she put a poky device and a small mirror in my mouth. (I could see Prairie Dogs outside the window, for the record. Didn’t make it any less awkward or mumble-y.)
True crime is our go-to show to watch. I don’t know what that says about me, except that if I murder someone, I will definitely get away with it. Except now that I’ve written this post. Now I won’t. Shame, because I really do have a good way to cover it up. Oh well, guess no murdering anyone.
Day 16 – Mom’s endless opinions and not dealing with my problems.