Status: ongoing
Priceless
Mother-Daughter Problems
~~~
I took another look at page 17 of the magazine that had been in my hands for the past twenty minutes, and read the title of the article again. Sofie Fitzgerald releases a new clothing line, it read. Bailey Elizabeth.
I couldn't even describe how I felt at the moment. But I wasn't happy, I knew that much. Using my name for her new clothing line didn't amuse me at the least bit. And the fact that she didn't even ask me first if she could do so infuriated me.
I finally threw the magazine on my bed and stomped off to her office. I wanted to know why she did it when she was clearly aware of the fact that I hated publicity.
I stormed into the room, not bothering to knock, and found her sitting on her computer chair, facing the computer. She looked up at me the moment I entered, her expression neutral while I stood there seething in anger.
"How could you, Mom?" I demanded, my voice strained with stress. I hated being disrespectful towards her, but what she did was just plain annoying. "You know I hate publicity. You know I hate being involved in your business!" My hands were both balled into fists, and my arms just hang on my sides, as I was trying hard to calm down.
She didn't seem fazed by my anger. She relaxed on her chair and folded her palms together, intertwining her fingers and pursing her lips into a smile. "You know, sweetie, most girls your age would be thrilled to have a clothing line named after them," she started, then tilted her head to her side. "Doesn't this whole thing excite you at all?"
"No," I snarled, keeping a safe distance from her to keep myself from slamming my fists onto her desk. "I'm not like most girls, Mom! I actually want a normal life but so far, I don't even have something you could call life! It's like I'm your puppet on a string!" I yelled with a stomp, trying to give it a shot, but there was this big part of me that knew she would neither care nor understand.
I followed her with my eyes as she stood up and began walking towards me, still as calm and collected as she had always been. It was like she was a life-sized Barbie doll—pretty, flawless, glam, heartless. With her porcelain skin, icy blue eyes, high-bridged nose, reddish lips, bust-length, layered ebony black hair that was naturally brown, and non-existing feelings, she could actually pass for one.
"Just consider this as a blessing, sweetheart," she said, smoothing my hair with her hand and then resting it on my jaw. "And prepare yourself, because next week, you'll be walking down the runway in Paris as my main model for this line."
The aggravation I felt just rose to a much higher level when she said that. I immediately backed away from her, my face turning red from anger. "No!" I yelled angrily. "I'm not gonna be one of your models! I don't want to go there!"
She sighed, but I couldn't read her face, as usual. "Honey, I didn't ask you," she said, her voice low and calm, but powerful. "It wasn't a request. It was me telling you what to do. Okay?"
I felt a thousand times more upset than ever as my evil mother dropped her hand to her side and made her way back to her chair, which was her way of saying that this conversation was over. She really had no plans of hearing me out, letting me have it my way, or whatsoever. She obviously treated herself as the queen of the universe, and I was nothing more than her freaking puppet.
"Please close the door when you leave, sweetie," she said, facing her computer and making it clear that as of the moment I was already irrelevant. Frustrated, I turned my heel and walked out of her slaughter room, slamming her flawlessly white door behind me. My face was still contorted in rage and frustration, but there was nothing I could do that would make Mom change her mind.
I quickly sent Erin a text as soon as I got back in my room. I wanna get fucking wasted tonight, I typed in heavily, my hands trembling from anger. Pick me up at 6. See you.
I didn't bother waiting for her reply. I left my phone on my bedside table and threw myself onto my bed, sprawling my legs and arms out as I took a deep breath and relaxed my face. Over the years, I had mastered the art of controlling my emotions and hiding what was inside, but there were still occasional outbursts that thankfully would only occur if I was at this household, or with Erin and the boys. Although I try to keep it to a minimum level around the boys, because I knew nobody liked that drama, and I didn't want to take away their fun. But I was really glad that I still had those times when I just wanted to rant about everything, because I feared that if I just stayed calm and showed everyone nothing but smiles, I would turn into my mother. Thank God there were still people who knew who I really was.
I closed my eyes and once again sighed heavily, as I racked my mind for good advices or inspiring quotes that could help me calm down even for just a while, so if I asked Dad and Mom if I could go with Erin later, they would allow me. I came across Erin's "Fuck them all", John's "Just listen to your heart" which was a song reference, and Trey's "Everything will be alright", but then I remembered him and his three words that seemed to have more meaning beyond them.
Just be tough.
I took another look at page 17 of the magazine that had been in my hands for the past twenty minutes, and read the title of the article again. Sofie Fitzgerald releases a new clothing line, it read. Bailey Elizabeth.
I couldn't even describe how I felt at the moment. But I wasn't happy, I knew that much. Using my name for her new clothing line didn't amuse me at the least bit. And the fact that she didn't even ask me first if she could do so infuriated me.
I finally threw the magazine on my bed and stomped off to her office. I wanted to know why she did it when she was clearly aware of the fact that I hated publicity.
I stormed into the room, not bothering to knock, and found her sitting on her computer chair, facing the computer. She looked up at me the moment I entered, her expression neutral while I stood there seething in anger.
"How could you, Mom?" I demanded, my voice strained with stress. I hated being disrespectful towards her, but what she did was just plain annoying. "You know I hate publicity. You know I hate being involved in your business!" My hands were both balled into fists, and my arms just hang on my sides, as I was trying hard to calm down.
She didn't seem fazed by my anger. She relaxed on her chair and folded her palms together, intertwining her fingers and pursing her lips into a smile. "You know, sweetie, most girls your age would be thrilled to have a clothing line named after them," she started, then tilted her head to her side. "Doesn't this whole thing excite you at all?"
"No," I snarled, keeping a safe distance from her to keep myself from slamming my fists onto her desk. "I'm not like most girls, Mom! I actually want a normal life but so far, I don't even have something you could call life! It's like I'm your puppet on a string!" I yelled with a stomp, trying to give it a shot, but there was this big part of me that knew she would neither care nor understand.
I followed her with my eyes as she stood up and began walking towards me, still as calm and collected as she had always been. It was like she was a life-sized Barbie doll—pretty, flawless, glam, heartless. With her porcelain skin, icy blue eyes, high-bridged nose, reddish lips, bust-length, layered ebony black hair that was naturally brown, and non-existing feelings, she could actually pass for one.
"Just consider this as a blessing, sweetheart," she said, smoothing my hair with her hand and then resting it on my jaw. "And prepare yourself, because next week, you'll be walking down the runway in Paris as my main model for this line."
The aggravation I felt just rose to a much higher level when she said that. I immediately backed away from her, my face turning red from anger. "No!" I yelled angrily. "I'm not gonna be one of your models! I don't want to go there!"
She sighed, but I couldn't read her face, as usual. "Honey, I didn't ask you," she said, her voice low and calm, but powerful. "It wasn't a request. It was me telling you what to do. Okay?"
I felt a thousand times more upset than ever as my evil mother dropped her hand to her side and made her way back to her chair, which was her way of saying that this conversation was over. She really had no plans of hearing me out, letting me have it my way, or whatsoever. She obviously treated herself as the queen of the universe, and I was nothing more than her freaking puppet.
"Please close the door when you leave, sweetie," she said, facing her computer and making it clear that as of the moment I was already irrelevant. Frustrated, I turned my heel and walked out of her slaughter room, slamming her flawlessly white door behind me. My face was still contorted in rage and frustration, but there was nothing I could do that would make Mom change her mind.
I quickly sent Erin a text as soon as I got back in my room. I wanna get fucking wasted tonight, I typed in heavily, my hands trembling from anger. Pick me up at 6. See you.
I didn't bother waiting for her reply. I left my phone on my bedside table and threw myself onto my bed, sprawling my legs and arms out as I took a deep breath and relaxed my face. Over the years, I had mastered the art of controlling my emotions and hiding what was inside, but there were still occasional outbursts that thankfully would only occur if I was at this household, or with Erin and the boys. Although I try to keep it to a minimum level around the boys, because I knew nobody liked that drama, and I didn't want to take away their fun. But I was really glad that I still had those times when I just wanted to rant about everything, because I feared that if I just stayed calm and showed everyone nothing but smiles, I would turn into my mother. Thank God there were still people who knew who I really was.
I closed my eyes and once again sighed heavily, as I racked my mind for good advices or inspiring quotes that could help me calm down even for just a while, so if I asked Dad and Mom if I could go with Erin later, they would allow me. I came across Erin's "Fuck them all", John's "Just listen to your heart" which was a song reference, and Trey's "Everything will be alright", but then I remembered him and his three words that seemed to have more meaning beyond them.
Just be tough.