Everything you’ve heard about bad mom’s are true. They only think of themselves when it comes to everything. Their yells only hurt their kids more. They’re the kind of parents who allow their kids to run riot in the neighbourhood and beat other kids with a bat. I’m taking all my blame to my mom on that one, but I was only eight. She allow a 3 year old child onto the street alone and when said the child runs into the road and gets rescued by an eleven year old boy who saved the child from being knocked over, she tells him to F** off snatches her child away from him and slam the door in his face. She's the kind that barely takes her child to school and comes home drunk at night when her eleven year old daughter is asleep, then she wakes her up just to slap her and tell her how horrible she was. That she was the blame for her father’s death. A reminder that she was a stranger to her own family.
When I got the call from Elite modelling agency, I was sure I’d become a model the first time they laid eyes on me on this interview, but as you all should know, my mom gets in the way of everything.
“OH, Honey, You forgot your purse.” Mom came in with a black fancy bag, that looked extremely new. Her feet stumble as she walked into the room, when she was supposed to stay in the car. Her hair was a mess and all she wore was a tight fitted pink crop top and short jean shorts.
“Mom!” I whisper yelled. The lady who sat behind the desk looked from me to her and raised an eyebrow.
“OH, don’t ‘mom’ me, Judith Mackenzie!” My cheeks turn red and the feeling of embarrassment rises up in my body.
“I’m your mother, you listen to me.” Her voice gets louder as she stumbles closer. I try to stay calm and smile at the owner of the agency I wanted to be in.
The lady stands up and gathers a few papers, she walks up to me with a half hearted smile. “Maybe you should try again tomorrow morning at 10.”
I was extremely surprised and my mouth couldn’t say a word. Either she realized my mom's state in mind or it was too embarrassing for me to continue. “But I can finish!” I quickly say.
“It seems like you’re busy with something.” She says once she side glances at my mom who looks like she was about to throw up. I sighed and hurried over to the my mom and helped her into the car. I took the time to get to the driver seat and suddenly she opens the door and throws up what's left in her stomach.
This was what I had to put up with my entire life---well, since my dad died.
