I have the pleasure, used very lightly, to be taking an American Literature class with a bunch of…um…interesting human beginnings, one of which reminds me of a little boyfriend I had when I was 18 and in my first semester of college. Let me elaborate, he fancies himself rebellious and mysterious yet well read.
AKA likes to blow smoke up your ass. He claims to have read all the great American authors and criticizes their work in a very generic cliff notes fashion. He saunters into our first class wearing a cheap cross earring that almost touched his shoulder and dressed all in black with the sleeves cut off of his t-shirt. Yesterday he walks in with the same damn earring but looking more like Don Johnson’s body double in Miami Vice. This douche bag kid is my definition of a typical 2nd year college student. He has just enough knowledge to have an opinion but not enough know differently from that one way he was taught.
So imagine my reaction when he declared yesterday, “People shouldn’t be able to write memoirs unless they’ve done something great.
My response, “I gave birth to 2 children, I think that’s pretty great.”
“Millions of women have given birth, that’s not great.”
douche bag kid has obviously never pushed 7 pounds of human through 10cm…or known anyone willing to talk about it who has. So sit down douche bag, I’m about to tell you all the GREAT things I’ve done as a mommy and why my memoirs will rock your thrift store rebel earring off.
1. I shit out, not one, but 2 7-ish pound humans…without pain meds.
I bet you cried when they stuck the needle through your ear.
2. I let both those humans hold my nipples hostage for months as they sucked the life out of them. Through all the chaffing, the thrush, the biting…I sat there for hours so that those 2 humans could grow and thrive. Nothing else was doing this for them, it was all me.
3. I read “The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubans” out loud 5 nights in a row last week. Side note: children’s books should not be more than 15 to 20 pages long. I swear that
fucking book is 1000 pages long. Fuck you Dr. Suess.
4.Recently there are meal times where I didn’t eat so that my humans could, just to make sure they had enough.
Which makes the fact that I haven’t eaten them yet equally as great.
5. I’m a full time college student, working 25 hours a week, living over 5 hours away from any family, and doing it all on my own…with a $3000/a month budget…in Connecticut. AKA:
Crazy Person Single Mom
6. 75% of the time I look as if I’ve been dressed by an angry mob of lesbians but I somehow still manage to keep my sex appeal.
It helps that most of the men I’m around all day are heavily drugged…or at least that’s I want to believe.
7. Even in my 30’s I still fuck like a porn star…well that’s not really true, and I’m not about to prove it. But it sounded good.
8. 90% of my time I make meals that my kids are actually willing to eat.
They probably don’t know any better. Side note: In the words of my father, “Brandi doesn’t even know how to cook a bologna sandwich.
So there you have. I think I’m pretty fucking great. So top that
douche bag kid. Let me know how many great things you’ve done as a human. I’ll make sure to mention you when my memoirs hit the NY Times best seller list. Mwah!