Home for the holidays

Chapter five- Ava

Being home for the holidays is hell. Currently my mom is searching through my whole suitcase and high school wardrobe looking for a dress she deems appropriate. I keep trying to tell her that my high school dresses won't fit or be my style but she's still not listening. Although after a mix of a huff and a tut she seems to make her way back to my suitcase. Personally I think I picked out a perfectly acceptable dress-- its a dark navy blue with tiny shimmers. However as its a blue my mom is claiming it to be more "New Years" whatever that means, a party dress is a dress after all. Following that conversation she exclaimed that we must go shopping for a better dress. My mom is defiantly someone that cares a lot about appearances. She's always wanted that look of the perfect American family-- her version of the American dream. She want that whole white picked fence life. Her lovely husband and their two daughters displaying everything they've worked for and expanding their own little families with the perfect partner and jobs. My mom always wants to show worth like its a solely physical aspect-- that you can see it by objects or how your kids turned out to the outside perspective.

So thats how I ended up in the mall with my mom who then invited my sister as she claims its good to have a second opinion. Usually I'd agree but not when it involves my mom. This is because my mom and sister have extremely similar views. My mom sees herself as classy and put together fully settling into being a at home mom turned house wife. She used to work in a firm that sells different medicines to people until she nobly stepped down to have children. Eventually after we were old enough for her not to be an at home mom she decided she didn't want to return to work and by then my dad owned his own company anyway.

My mom instantly guides us to her faviourite overpriced boutique which she has been raving about for years. This is my first time acctually inside it though. All along the walls are beautiful dresses lined up by color and size. As I step nearer to the railings I see they only carry the smallest sizes-- the biggest being my size a size eight. I scoff as I flick through the dresses finding it unbelievable that out of all these clothes they are not inclusive. As someone who has had weight fluctuations all my life I hate to think about how teenage me would agonise over being at almost the largest size. My mom always commented on my weight growing up which defiantly didn't help my relationship with food or how I see myself. Once I became a teenager thats when I started to get slight symptoms of generalised anxiety disorder. Looking back I can see a multitude of reasons for my anxiety to start but back then I felt alienated. At the time I didn't realise it was even anxiety to my knowledge I was just abnormal-- broken. When I started having more physical panic attacks that including hyperventilating in college I finally saw it for what it was and how it has adapted and grown over time. It was refreshing to learn from my old therapist that anxiety isn't linear and can be expressed in a plethora of forms so although my anxiety attacks aren't what they are like now that doesn't mean it was any less of a panic attack. It just means overtime my form of anxiety has changed and divulged into a different type of feeling-- there's no definitive reason for it but its comforting to know that although my anxiety is (mostly) under control I shouldn't be scared about the changes.

"Darling remind me what size you are," my mom says waltzing over with two beautiful dresses in her arms. One is a deep red that I can just about tell has a heart neckline. The second is a deep plum which is like nothing I've ever seen before. The plum one has these delicate sparkles almost giving a sheen to the dress--making it look extra luxurious. My eyes glance to the tag she has in her hand clearly showing a size four. Noticing that she picked out my size in high school my heart drops as I mumble to her my actual size. Her eyes widen slightly and her mouth makes a slight 'O' shape as she comes to the realisation that her least favourite child is also a moderately bigger than she used to be. Mom eventually picks out the clothes again this time in the right size. I rolled my eyes and headed over to the dressing room wanting to get this whole ordeal over. I don't see why this Christmas party is such a big deal, yes its an annual tradition but it's normally infused with judgement.

After a lot of debating and back and fourth with my mom we finally decide on the plum colored dress. Although this was clearly the winning choice it did not mean my mom didn't have some negatives to say like how pale my skin is etc. Which means the next stop on our preparation for the Christmas party is buying fake tan to placate my mother.

After the fake tan was brought I was hoping that this abhorrent day would be over. But nope, nada, no this treacherous day will never end. I knew I should expect her to want to carry the day on until we can get all the things to make me look "pretty" although what she really means is like my sister and maybe a bit less gay. For instance she wanted me to get acrylics now I don't mind having nails but we all know they can get in the way of a good time and I'm just not prepared for that potential sacrifice. Let alone the damage they can do because I never like taking them off instead choosing to rip them off at home-- safe to say my nail beds are not very happy with me. After a long debate about the impracticalities she finally agreed that I'm not up to the task of nurturing my nails. We ended up buying a press on set that I can haphazardly put on the day before. Although we did and up walking past the nail salon to which mom starred a little before carrying on-- I have no idea what was up with that but when I tried to peer in she hushed at me to keep walking. I'm just assuming she saw one of her "friends" who she didn't want to make an appearance with. Or maybe she's embarrassed being seen with me, it wouldn't be the first time.

***

The shopping trip finally ended and all I wanted to do was go relax in my room. Before any one could say anything to me I rushed upstairs partially feeling like a teenager again. I dump my bags down on the floor ready to flop on my bed. However after doing that for some reason all I can focus on is the nail salon. Why did my mom stand there for so long? Then she rushed away like it was nothing I'm so confused. I try to collect my thoughts hating that I keep coming to the conclusion that I'm the problem. Normally I'm ok with myself; I love my life, yeah there could be more romance in it but overall I'm ok. I love the apartment I live in, my anxiety is under as much control as possible but since I've come back here to this town I have a nagging feeling of something that can't seem to subside. Deciding I need an outlet I call my best friend Wayne.

"Hey dude how's the family? I'm assuming bad as you're already calling me."

"Ahh I hate that you can guess that." I roll my eyes even though I know he can't see me, "My mom's being insufferable. She's looked through all my clothes deciding that none of them were good enough for this stupid town Christmas party."

"You mean that even though I walked in on you choosing from an abundance of clothes she didn't like any?! Dude your mom sucks if she can't see you for who your are. You could always come back early and be my wingwoman for a night out my friends are forcing me to go to."

"Haha I wish but after my experience at the airport I'm not sure if I want to stress about bumping into more random women."

"Its a shame you didn't offer to wipe off the drink-- you could've got all up in there."

"Eww you're gross, you know that?"

"Too late to leave me now Ava," he sang my name like it was hilarious, "But if you do decide to come back please come to that thing with me and you might meet a hot girl there just don't take them all I can't keep up with the competition."

"Alright Wayne. I've got to go and sit through a human sacrifice."

"Umm??"

"Dinner with the family."

"Ok well, hopefully no blood will be spilt. Love you Ava."

"You too, Wayne, bye." And with that I hung up and prepared tried to prepare myself for dinner. At this point I just want the day to be over.