jamie ann

I’ve never had a huggy, super close relationship with my mom. And I’m perfectly okay with that.

Things have been especially rocky since she decided to spring a divorce on my father out of the blue days after Christmas, while I was out of town and somehow forgot to mention that when she welcomed me back home. Then proceeded to act like everything was fine, ignore what she did and that she didn’t completely throw our family for a loop. She just went on about her business acting like nothing was happening. And when anyone called her out on it, well, we were the selfish ones. Guilt trips and blaming others is her specialty.

Kind of delusional, right?

Then she started to lose weight. Which is great for her because she’s always wanted to. Fine. Whatever. But apparently that made her the expert on all things weight and healthy. And basically ALL SHE TALKS ABOUT. Going shopping with her makes me want to shoot myself in the face. Because she thinks “this is too loose”, “too baggy” and “I think I need a size small” when she clearly doesn’t need a size small. She just wants people to comment about her weight loss. ALL THE TIME. Or like the time she wanted to borrow a dress from me (my mother has never worn dresses. ever). The dress in question was the one I wore to my HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION. What is wrong with this sentence?

MAINLY THAT YOU ARE NOT 17 YEARS OLD.

And then she tries to get me to tell her what size I wear by casually throwing it into conversation. “I got these corduroys. What size do you wear? You should see them.”

1) I do not wear fucking corduroys and 2) SHUT THE FUCK UP.

She feels the need to comment about my weight and what she thinks is subtly commenting on hers and why she is doing amazing and what I should do. She’s been losing weight for all of 5 minutes. That does not make an expert.

For the record, I know I’m enormous right now. I get that. I’ve constantly struggled with my own weight and it yo-yos. Right now, I’m at my highest weight ever and I know I look bad. The past year and a half of my life has been fucked up and it visibly shows. It’s how I reacted to the stress. I don’t need it shoved in my face. It is not a competition.

But I can deal with it in my own and I am taking my own measures to work it out.

And then there is the LET’S HANG OUT stuff. Now all of a sudden when I’m 25 years old, she wants to HANGOUT with me all the time. “What’s new in life, Jame?(not JamIe)” Um, not much.  “I seen a Jillian Michaels Wii game” ….. (well you all know how I feel about Jillian Michaels) “Let’s get wine and drink!” No, I don’t want to get drunk with my mother. “Come over and order pizza”. No, I don’t want to watch you eat one slice of pizza and tell me your full and omg does this top look too big?!

We are not OMG HAAAY GIRLFRIENDs.

I have my own life to deal with. I can’t deal with her midlife crisis too.

And I have a feeling she is living up to those nosy tendencies of hers and reading my blog even though she said she doesn’t/wouldn’t. So if she does, hi mom, welcome to the blog that you shouldn’t be reading.

Curiosity killed the cat.