Just a girl who lost her mom
My friend asked if I’m back home and how the rest of my trip went, as we last spoke halfway through it.
My answer:
“The scariest headwear at the Disney Halloween parade was maga hats. All but my last day got rained out. Met nice people and ate a ton. I feel like a stuffed pork chop and I hate everything. But for a little while I was just a random girl on vacation and not the sad bitch who is avoiding Treadmill (redacted).”
Her reply:
“Damn, I didn’t know a short text could make me want to scream cry and laugh with such force. Treadmill (redacted) is better than any name trump could come up with.”
Not that there is a single silver lining in my life right now.
But I will say, at least I haven’t said anything about work that could give me heartburn.
I guess till this post anyway.
Seriously, why does someone amazing die but …
Yeah, never mind.
In any event, I was on a roll till someone informed me they must check all my work.
This they told me two days ago that I had written something wrong and I sent them a screenshot of THEIR mistake that I was copying for consistency.
Also we have amazing copywriters and editorial writers all through the company. And they pay two freelancers who couldn’t sell a MeowBook Pro to my cats.
I keep dodging this person who keeps insisting on meeting rather than her just giving me a link I asked for.
I remember how she treated me like garbage for a year and a half. I no longer have a problem with her but let’s not jeopardize that peace, hey?
I know. I’m 50. Though I’ll always be 30ish to Cindy.
Anyway, it’s almost 90 days that Momma is gone. I never went 90 minutes without talking to her.
Even if I went on a trip alone, we texted the whole time. She would always thank me for taking her with me.
I still text her. Not as much, of course. But, when I remember an inside joke I don’t want to forget.
Though Siri needs as much help as some copy types.
My friend picked up what I put down.
Not just that I am a sad bitch. Which, SO accurate.
Rather that, in a familiar town full of strangers, I was whoever they might have imagined me to be.
Childless cat lady.
Brave girl to travel without a man or a friend.
Big spender (albeit with Disney points).
Adventurous eater (stuffed pork chop).
Cool ears girl (which, I love my ears).
If they even saw me.
Which, other than Susan, Tiffany, Christina, Matty, Rachel and Terra — over the course of 10 days — oh and that cute guy at Giordano’s — I can assume they did not.
I come home and I’m back to being the girl who lost her mom.
I guess I’m still all those other things.
But this is how I define myself more than anything.
Even more than stuffed pork chop.