“Who’s getting married?” I asked, throwing down my backpack and grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry.
“Oh, nobody,” my mom said, giving me a judgmental look for my snack choice.
Trying to ignore her, I placed a handful of chips into my mouth, subsequently coughing and spitting out little flakes of chip into my cupped hands. Awkwardly, I tossed the bag into the trash and went to wash my hand. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my mother shaking her head as she turned back to the magazine.
Trying to ignore her, I placed a handful of chips into my mouth, subsequently coughing and spitting out little flakes of chip into my cupped hands. Awkwardly, I tossed the bag into the trash and went to wash my hand. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my mother shaking her head as she turned back to the magazine.
“Don’t you think your sister would look great in a wedding dress like this?” She gestured to a lacy, Cinderella type ball-gown.
“Mom. Noa’s 14! I don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about wedding dresses just yet!” It took all of my self-control not to add that I doubted Noa would ever get married since she can’t stay with a boyfriend for a month let alone a lifetime. And anyway, even if she did get married, I doubt she would be able to wear white.
“No, I know. I know” My mom said wistfully, flipping the pages, “I’m just so excited to get to throw a wedding. I mean, just look at how gorgeous these dresses are! You’re sister would look so beautiful in these! Oh! And look at this maid-of-honor dress, I mean, what a perfect color for you, with those beautiful blue eyes of yours.”
“Mom!”
“What? I said you had beautiful eyes. Why are you getting in such a huff?”
Okay. So I should probably clear something up about my mother here before you all start making your own judgments.
My mother is one of the most amazing women you will ever meet in your entire life. I mean, seriously, she is the type of mom who is super involved at my school, always eager to throw a party for my “friends,” super supportive of everything I attempt to be good at. But, despite all this great stuff, she has the unfortunate tendency to constantly insult me without thinking she is actually insulting me. Sure, she loves me, I never question that, just sometimes I wonder if it’s that kind of pitying love where she sorta thinks I’m a total loser and she feels guilty for allowing me to get that way.
“I’m gonna go do some studying in my room” I said, picking up my backpack and running out before she had a chance to respond.
By this point my mom and I both totally know that when I tell her I’m going to “study” in my room I’m actually just going to sit on Facebook, watching everybody else’s lives and wallowing in the fact that I have absolutely nothing to do except sit on Facbeook and watch other people’s lives. But whatever, she never calls me out on it, and it got me out of the room of wedding dresses and broken dreams.
