It was just another "cheque day" in everyone's favourite syphilis-infested shit hole, Hamilton. Mothers get their baby bonuses, their boyfriends get their welfare cheques, and 500 pound women get their disability cheques. It's not a good day to go to the bank. But I was forgetting this on this particular day, until I walked into the bank.
First of all. The ugly shoes.
I don't care who you are, what you do, what drug you're addicted to or where you shop; buy some fucking shoes that look half decent. This one baby mama was wearing Timberland boots that are at least 5 years old, and obviously belonged to her baby's daddy (or the new guy that her baby is calling daddy, because if he ain't gon' pay no child support, little Eli can call anybody he like he daddy, that triflin' bum, I pay ma bills...
AND PLATFORM FLIP-FLOPS! WTF!
...Maybe I'm betraying my kind. But no! No! Why do you have to be a cliche? I don't know how to make that e have an accent overtop, but I know it needs one and you probably noticed too. I mean, the mom in her pajamas with hair that SCREAMS "I just got fucked and ran over to the bank, all within 10 minutes", her kid was trying to swing on the velvet rope (the one that tells us all how to line up and where) and yanked the entire thing down and laughed hysterically.
And there was a baby, a baby, drinking a can of pepsi.
The thing that was glaringly obvious about every one of these women was their bitter expressions. Their mouths are pinched like they're sucking on a lemon and they yell at their kids with wild abandon, who cares who's watching! MERCEDES YOU GET OVER HERE OR I'M COMING OVER THERE AND SLAPPING YOUR ASS!!!
They were all very unhappy looking. Well, nobody ever looks happy in a bank but this was more than the typical 'why are their 6 tellers but 4 of them are congregating with their backs turned to us instead of dealing with all 16 of us in this god forsaken place... banking can be this comfortable, huh? Fuck you' kind of way.
And then it was my turn to face the teller, who looks so pretty in her collared shirt with the glitter detailing off the shoulder. What did she think of me, I ask myself. AmI one of them? Do I not even realize that I'm one of them? What's next - going out with no make up on? I shudder at the thought...
People. Just because you're a mom it doesn't mean you have to turn into the kind of moms we see all around us (in Hamilton, at least). You can still be cool! Well, maybe not cool, but a MILF at the very least. Give yourselves a little more credit, and stop feeding babies pepsi. Do you have any idea what you're setting that little guy up for?
I'm not claiming to be perfect. I'm really not. Right now I'm wearing shorts that are made of sweat pants and a tank top from Giant Tiger, and there is pasta sauce on it. And today I stuck Carter in front of the TV for like an hour. Nobody's perfect. But don't you at least want people to think you are when you're out in the world? Or is that just my insecurities coming out? Do I sound like a real bitch? hmm.. don't answer that.