The Good Mother Story

I’ve been having a little financial trouble lately. I know it’s a sad story, but I’m going to tell it anyway. See, what happened was – well, it’s complicated. I was engaged to this guy. We shared an apartment. Which means we shared the rent and the bills. Now, we’re not engaged. As you can imagine, he doesn’t live here anymore. Nor does he pay his half of the rent or bills. Makes sense, right? But now I’m stuck with this apartment I can’t afford. Before you shed any tears for me, it’s only for a few more months. I’ll make it.

Last week was a particularly hard week. I had no money. None. Like the kind of no money where you don’t get to eat for a few days. I lived on cinnamon Certs and Hershey Kisses for four straight days. Okay, now you can go get a tissue. Cry all you want. I have two jobs. You’d think that would cover the bills.

One of my jobs is to work for my mother. My mom is not your typical mom. But she means well. I told her about my money situation, thinking maybe she would buy me some groceries or take me out to dinner or put some gas in my car. You know, something helpful. I underestimated her.

I was at her house working. I won’t bore you with the details of my job. Basically, I spend my Sundays sorting mail and making copies of things. I get to watch football while I do it, so it’s really not so bad. Well, I had been there for a few hours when she called me (she was out working, we don’t do the whole day of rest thing in my family). She said she had something for me, and asked me what time I would be done so I could meet her to get it. Blah blah blah. An hour or so later, I went to the hospital to meet her and pick up what I hoped would be groceries – or Christian Bale. Who needs to eat when you have Christian Bale in your bedroom, right?

Well, it wasn’t groceries. Or Christian Bale. I would make you guess, but you never would. So I’ll just tell you. Face wash (five different kinds). And moisturizer. And toner. And makeup. And things I’ve never heard of, much less know how to use. What the fuck is pre-moisturizer? Can I eat any of this crap? I don’t want to sound ungrateful here, but really. What the fuck is up with that? She spent like hundreds of dollars on face wash. Hundreds. Of. Dollars. On. Face wash. Well, I can tell you that I probably have the cleanest face in all of Texas. I washed my face and washed my face and moisturized it and masked it and pre-fucking-moisturized it and made it up. Now I’m pretty. Maybe I even lost a few pounds.