𝙾𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚜𝚒𝚡

As I walk down the hall, backpack newly adjusted over my shoulders, I hear Mum turn her shower off. Normally, she's long gone by now. She's tracking late for work. Noticing her work bag is still on the kitchen bench, I pick it up with the intention of putting it in the car for her. But it's light. I look inside and don't see her lunchbox, just a bag of lollies. I look around the kitchen and still don't see the lunchbox. Mum does occasionally forget her lunchbox at work. It was probably left there yesterday. I walk out the front door with the bag and place it on the passenger side of my mum's pearly-white RAV4. The vehicle still has its newborn car smell, a scent one intentionally breathes in through their nose for. As I walk back towards the verandah, I note that our abode is nothing short of charming. The winding path from the driveway, thick native flora either side. Our limestone cottage home, built with modern finishes. As a real estate agent with exact taste, Mum would not have settled for anything less nor settled the deal in any less time.

Mum's virtually running out of the house, a container in hand. With my back, or rather backpack, I hold open the flywire door.

"Where's my bag?!" she demands, her face close to mine.

"I put it in the car for you," I say, wishing I could take a step back from her. Knowing the flywire door won't let me.

She shoves the container to my stomach, her lunchbox I see. "In my fridge," she states, "A salad. Because I'm healthy – unlike you."

"I thought maybe you had left it in your work fridge..." I say, each of my words becoming fainter than the last.

"You're an idiot!" she blasts.

I watch Mum stalk off the porch. I gulp. But a fire rises from within me nonetheless. "I'm not an idiot," I say.

Mum immediately turns around and with even greater velocity, motions back towards me. Her face is now closer to mine than a moment ago. "Yes, you are," she articulates, "You know why I'm late for work? Because I was up last night crying about you. You and your lack of eating are a stress in my life!"

I look into her wide blue eyes. One of few features I inherited from her. How odd that our organs of sight are so similar yet different at this moment.

"Do you think you're beautiful?"

No.

Mum finishes her staring contest and once again storms towards the car.

With my arms crossed around my middle, I stand inside behind the flywire.

You're ugly. You have pimples all over your chin. Lips too small. Nose bumpy. You need to be thinner. Your weight isn't good enough. You're not good enough.

Mum speeds down the driveway and up the road.