Reasons you will hate me

'But I thought you liked vintage!'

Yesterday while I was at work being a super-important and high-flying producer, my mother dropped by my house to walk Bob Ellis. Do you love how connected I am with housekeeper-esque arrangements? I got a phonecall from her later in the afternoon and she sounded brimming with excitement.
'Make sure you call me as soon as you get home!' she said, somewhat breathlessly.
As an only child, I could only imagine what awaited me upon my return. Had she -


- Swept and mopped the kitchen floors?*
- Removed and scrubbed the sinful sheets from my octagonal leather-look bed?
- Cleaned out all the old Vietnamese food in the fridge and replaced it with health-giving soup?
- Erected a small bronze statue, or 'effigy', of me in the backyard?


No. She had left a plastic bag on the kitchen table. This is what it had in it.


- One size 14 knee-length tan suede cowgirl skirt, complete with random fringing.
- One long-sleeved black stretchy top made out of some kind of foul-smelling rubber.
- One Kath and Kim -style enormous calf-length dark denim skirt with bedazzler jewels that appear to have been attached by a syphillis-infested monkey.
- Two one-sleeve orange, pink and white-patterned lyrca tops with pictures of pineapples on the front.
And if that wasn't enough:
- Three pairs of high-waisted skinny-leg leather pants of varying sizes. .


What the fuck? I am about a size 9. She keeps not only buying me clothes of complete hideousness, but also in sizes that she obviously feels I will 'grow into' after sitting on a couch for ten years eating whole roast chickens and washing myself with a rag on a stick. And don't even start me on the fucking Suzie Quatro leather pants shit. I like go-go boots and dresses that show my bosoms. The day I start swaggering around in leather 'trews', just punch me in the vagina and send me home at once. You'll be doing me a big favour.






*I should point out here that I don't actually love it when she tries this shit on. I have lived out of home for twelve years because I am a teenage-esque vagabond on the freedom trail. But, you know, whatever makes them happy.

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