Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
Parental Tantrums
People always say the waiting is the hardest part. Well, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers clearly never met my mother when she was in a temper. I've barely got my key in the front door when she starts in on me. Actually, the thing she does is wrenches the door open, pulls me inside and slams it shut.
It must be wonderful to be grown up, particularly a parent, so you can be a total hypocrite without even a hint of irony. I'm fairly certain I'm forbidden from slamming doors. The one time I did, she went on for an hour about teenage mood swings. It's a shame I can never retaliate with parental tantrums.
"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" she roars at me, pointing her finger accusitively at the same time. "Steven phoned me last night out of his mind with worry - he went to collect you from Storm only you and Izzie and Bridget weren't there! We've been out of our minds with worry! Three teenage girls disappeared all night - anything could have happened!"
Why do parents have such overactive imaginations? Moreover, overreacting; it's a word that I commonly associate with my Mum. Izzie is so lucky. I bet all her Dad is doing now is taking away the heels his girlfriend Serena gave her as a present while I have to suffer the tempest of a sea witch!
Only, of course, I don't say this out loud. I just bow my head, trying to look as though I'm extremely regretful.
I mean, yes, my stomach is frozen as we speak. But that's mainly because I'm being shouted at. I hate being shouted at. I know everyone does, but it always makes me feel about two inches tall. Which is exactly my Mum's intention.
"And you can that look off your face young lady!" snaps Mum.
"What look?" I ask. I wish I hadn't.
"None of that lip either! Now, where exactly were you? And don't bother lying, I'll know if you are!"
How do parents know when you're lying? I bet Izzie will be lying smoothly. Some lie about a friend's house and parents being there and going to bed so early we forgot to phone . . .
"I stayed round Bridget's," I say, pleased because it isn't a lie. On the downside, my expression is just begging her to ask me why I look so guilty.
"Oh really?" says Mum suspiciously. "Because I phoned Bridget's house about twelve times and I didn't get an answer once!"
Thank goodness! It was too horrible to think about what might have happened should someone had answered the phone!
"We were in the garage with Seb and we didn't hear the phone," I lie, hoping that will be convincing.
"You didn't answer your mobile either," points out Mum angrily. Then - "Wait a second, I thought Bridget's parents were away this weekend?"
Oops . . .
"No?" I lie again. This one isn't flying. "Well, yes. But Seb was there! And he's eighteen so I thought that would be - "
"Oh, you thought that you'd spend the night with a lone teenage boy and no parents? And you though that would be OK?"
"Well it wasn't just Seb - his band was there too!" I inform her. Then I feel like biting my tongue - why the HELL did I go and tell her that?! Like knowing there were more horny, young boys around to 'keep an eye' on me was going to make my Mum feel less tense. Yeah, right.
"We were watching them rehearse?" I add hopefully. Maybe if I keep talking about the band, she'll get sidetracked and forget what she was angry about. "God, there was one song they had called Engine Run and it's all about how petrol is - "
"ELLA!"
*
So, guess what? I'm grounded. I'm being charged with irresponsiblity, lying to authority, withholding information, associating with grown men (when it comes to looking after his little sister and the house for the weekend, Seb is a spotty little juvenile. But when it turns out he could be coming onto me or something, in my Mum's eyes he turns into a predatory, fully grown man!) and, of course, not keeping her 'fully informed about my whereabouts at all times'.
I didn't help matters because on my way up the stairs to my cell, I shouted, "How am I supposed to develop if you keep treating me like a child?" which allowed her to do one of her favourite lines - "If you want me to treat you like an adult Ella, start acting like one." And she always says it with this smug look on her face.
She's smug because she knows she's won. And it was all I could do not to shriek like a banshee and slam the door behind me so hard the whole house would fall down on her head.
I somehow manage to get into my room (shutting the door with an appropriate lack of noise) and sit down on my bed and grip the duvet so hard my knuckles turn white.
The worst thing is last night is now completely spoiled because she's made me feel like a baby. I try and think about how great it was to completely ignore her wishes last night but all I can think about is how she wins every time. She never lets me do anything.
She'd never have let me go to The Wine House with Bridget and Izzie. The one time I asked - more to see what she'd say other than simply 'no' - I whined that everyone else was going and she just said, "No, they're not. Izzie's not going."
Izzie's Dad is sort of strict with her. Well, he used to be. Now he's got his girlfriend Serena he's loosened up a lot. And Izzie always found a way of doing what she wanted anyway. Even if it meant lying, or sneaking out or whatever. She always found a way.
Just then, I get a text from Izzie.
HEY ELLA HOW LNG IZ UR SENTENCE?
MINE = O.
EXPLAIN ON MON.
HAVE A GD WKND!
IZX
And you want to know what the worst part was? I'm hitting the reply button when my Mum walks in and takes my phone out of my hand.
"You remember the rules - no talking to your friends. Or watching TV. If you want an occupation, you can come down and hoover the stairs."
Things are about to get wild.
It must be wonderful to be grown up, particularly a parent, so you can be a total hypocrite without even a hint of irony. I'm fairly certain I'm forbidden from slamming doors. The one time I did, she went on for an hour about teenage mood swings. It's a shame I can never retaliate with parental tantrums.
"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" she roars at me, pointing her finger accusitively at the same time. "Steven phoned me last night out of his mind with worry - he went to collect you from Storm only you and Izzie and Bridget weren't there! We've been out of our minds with worry! Three teenage girls disappeared all night - anything could have happened!"
Why do parents have such overactive imaginations? Moreover, overreacting; it's a word that I commonly associate with my Mum. Izzie is so lucky. I bet all her Dad is doing now is taking away the heels his girlfriend Serena gave her as a present while I have to suffer the tempest of a sea witch!
Only, of course, I don't say this out loud. I just bow my head, trying to look as though I'm extremely regretful.
I mean, yes, my stomach is frozen as we speak. But that's mainly because I'm being shouted at. I hate being shouted at. I know everyone does, but it always makes me feel about two inches tall. Which is exactly my Mum's intention.
"And you can that look off your face young lady!" snaps Mum.
"What look?" I ask. I wish I hadn't.
"None of that lip either! Now, where exactly were you? And don't bother lying, I'll know if you are!"
How do parents know when you're lying? I bet Izzie will be lying smoothly. Some lie about a friend's house and parents being there and going to bed so early we forgot to phone . . .
"I stayed round Bridget's," I say, pleased because it isn't a lie. On the downside, my expression is just begging her to ask me why I look so guilty.
"Oh really?" says Mum suspiciously. "Because I phoned Bridget's house about twelve times and I didn't get an answer once!"
Thank goodness! It was too horrible to think about what might have happened should someone had answered the phone!
"We were in the garage with Seb and we didn't hear the phone," I lie, hoping that will be convincing.
"You didn't answer your mobile either," points out Mum angrily. Then - "Wait a second, I thought Bridget's parents were away this weekend?"
Oops . . .
"No?" I lie again. This one isn't flying. "Well, yes. But Seb was there! And he's eighteen so I thought that would be - "
"Oh, you thought that you'd spend the night with a lone teenage boy and no parents? And you though that would be OK?"
"Well it wasn't just Seb - his band was there too!" I inform her. Then I feel like biting my tongue - why the HELL did I go and tell her that?! Like knowing there were more horny, young boys around to 'keep an eye' on me was going to make my Mum feel less tense. Yeah, right.
"We were watching them rehearse?" I add hopefully. Maybe if I keep talking about the band, she'll get sidetracked and forget what she was angry about. "God, there was one song they had called Engine Run and it's all about how petrol is - "
"ELLA!"
*
So, guess what? I'm grounded. I'm being charged with irresponsiblity, lying to authority, withholding information, associating with grown men (when it comes to looking after his little sister and the house for the weekend, Seb is a spotty little juvenile. But when it turns out he could be coming onto me or something, in my Mum's eyes he turns into a predatory, fully grown man!) and, of course, not keeping her 'fully informed about my whereabouts at all times'.
I didn't help matters because on my way up the stairs to my cell, I shouted, "How am I supposed to develop if you keep treating me like a child?" which allowed her to do one of her favourite lines - "If you want me to treat you like an adult Ella, start acting like one." And she always says it with this smug look on her face.
She's smug because she knows she's won. And it was all I could do not to shriek like a banshee and slam the door behind me so hard the whole house would fall down on her head.
I somehow manage to get into my room (shutting the door with an appropriate lack of noise) and sit down on my bed and grip the duvet so hard my knuckles turn white.
The worst thing is last night is now completely spoiled because she's made me feel like a baby. I try and think about how great it was to completely ignore her wishes last night but all I can think about is how she wins every time. She never lets me do anything.
She'd never have let me go to The Wine House with Bridget and Izzie. The one time I asked - more to see what she'd say other than simply 'no' - I whined that everyone else was going and she just said, "No, they're not. Izzie's not going."
Izzie's Dad is sort of strict with her. Well, he used to be. Now he's got his girlfriend Serena he's loosened up a lot. And Izzie always found a way of doing what she wanted anyway. Even if it meant lying, or sneaking out or whatever. She always found a way.
Just then, I get a text from Izzie.
HEY ELLA HOW LNG IZ UR SENTENCE?
MINE = O.
EXPLAIN ON MON.
HAVE A GD WKND!
IZX
And you want to know what the worst part was? I'm hitting the reply button when my Mum walks in and takes my phone out of my hand.
"You remember the rules - no talking to your friends. Or watching TV. If you want an occupation, you can come down and hoover the stairs."
Things are about to get wild.