Thursday, June 20, 2013

Nobody Would Stop To Save Her

I have come to the realization that I am underdeveloped.  It explains everything.  My emotional immaturity.  My height.  My inability to understand and relate to grownup stuff.  I think that's probably the same thing as emotional immaturity, but shut up.  

When I was a kid, the doctor tried to get my mom to put me on growth hormones.  She rightly refused.  My mom's only 4'8".  It's not like I didn't come by it honestly.  It's not a medical problem or a diagnosis.  I am just not tall.  Why does that require fixing?  

Grrrr.   I went off point there for a moment.  Anyway.  Maybe I AM actually underdeveloped?  Stunted maybe?  I'm normally proportioned.  I've got plenty of tits and ass.  I didn't get my first period until I was 16, though.  But who's counting?  

All that meant to me was that at 15, I could rack up the notches on my bedpost without having to worry about getting knocked up.  

Anyway.   It's the only way I can explain certain things about my personality.  Things like my adverse reaction to worky jobs.  And adult definitions of "successful."  My refusal to get an old lady haircut.  Ever.  The sheer terror the idea of getting old evokes.  My relief that my kids are now old enough that I don't have to do grownup Mom shit anymore.  

GODDAMN.  Mom shit is so stupid.  I always thought glove compartments made much better diaper bags.  And if it didn't fit in the glove compartment, the kid doesn't need it.  Strollers are stupid when it's much faster just to sling the little bug over your shoulder and keep marchin.  Bottles?  Fuck that.  I had free food that didn't have to be prepared and never resulted in dirty dishes.  Why would any woman be averse to that??  

Taking them to school?  Bullshit.  That meant I had to get up early.  So.  Homeschooling it was.  It was only later on that I slapped together a more socially acceptable reason for it.  Truth.  Waking up 5-year-old babies while it's still dark outside to send them off to a classroom full of people you don't know is downright HORSESHIT.  So, I just quit.  

Responsibilities?  Fuck.  If my bank didn't do the automatic bill paying thingy, every single bill we have would be completely forgotten.  What?  You mean you have to pay to turn your lights and the faucet on?  Why did no one tell me this??!!  Yeah.  It would be a disaster.  

Even now.  Andrew walked into the living room a few minutes ago and asked if he could go hang out with his friends.  I got this blank look on my face.  Sorta like, "Why the fuck are you asking me?"  Kid's got a driver's license.  He's got money.  He knows the rules.  At least wave at me when you walk out the door so I know you're leaving.  Otherwise, I don't give a good goddamn what the fuck you do.  

I'm terrible.  TERRIBLE.  AWFUL.  IMMATURE.  UNDERDEVELOPED.  

It explains everything.  

Wait.  No it doesn't.  I also have hair on my toes.  And I run barefoot.  I rarely leave my house.  And I have once again succumbed to the filthy temptations of pipeweed.  

Holy shit. 

 I'm a fucking Hobbit.

 

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1 comment:

  1. I feel ya. I feel weird today because there's a plumber in my house, which somehow compelled me to wear shoes. Why the fuck am I walking around in my house with shoes on? My feet are confused.

    Anyway. You're probably not as underdeveloped as you think you are. I mean, you SET UP the automatic bill-pay, right? Wait. You might not have done the actual setting up. Hmm... Well, your kids are still alive. Yeah. There.

    Truth is, we "underdeveloped" types might be more well-adjusted than most of those boring grownups, anyway. And if we're not, well fuck 'em. We have fun. Life is short.

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