Surviving Life As A Weirdo

Patricia Boo

"Wake up in the morning and I..."

"DAB!", I scream at my alarm.

"Patricia, honey, not again! Your father is doing yoga!" my mom screamed.

I allowed my eyeballs to roll back into my head for the 69th time since last week. I twerked exactly fifty times to Little Einsteins as a start of my morning routine. To get my face in my preferred position, I do my facial psychotic stretches. Then, I scrub my teeth with hot sauce flavored toothpaste which I ordered from my uncle Amy's website.

Finally, I went back to my bed and dozed off for exactly five minutes. While I was getting up, I fell forward, tripping on all my period stained underwear. When I fell on my face, I noticed a Dora the Explorer bra hanging from my door knob. As I put it on, I looked at my reflection in my vanity mirror and grinned at Boots the Monkey through my translucent t-shirt. Score!

"Patricia boo! Hurry and come eat your breakfast!" my mum screamed from downstairs.

I ran downstairs, hoping not to trip this time. I was getting tired of all the bruises I was receiving on my beautiful face.

Smelling the pleasant scent of dog food flavored pancakes and heavily burnt eggs made my eyes pop in hunger. I sat in my rusty seat which I protested to keep for eternity unlike my other family members who sat in their disgusting sleek wooden chairs.

I was forced to sit next to my polar opposite twin, Whitney. I gave her a onceover and noticed she had a new tinted lip gloss spreaded perfectly over her dainty lips.

"Ew" I mumbled quietly at her disgustingly bright and revealing outfit.

She was probably going to her boyfriend Jack's house later to do whatever normal teenage couples do these days.

"Excuse me Patricia, do you have a problem?", she asked.

"Yes, I'd appreciate if your boobs weren't popping out of your chest this early in the morning." I retorted, rolling my eyes.

"Please, at least I have boobs" my somehow related to me sister stated.

"Why would I want to have pieces of fat hanging from my chest?" I mumbled.

"Speak up, Patty!"

I hate the name Patty.

"PATTY! PATTY! WHERE'S THE FATTY?" Kindergarten through 8th grade memories hit me like train. They didn't know what they were talking about, I was only a little chubby.

Whatever. I like to eat whatever I want, unlike Whitney who eats what the lawn mower eats. I even get to eat dog flavored pancakes!
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"Adios, madre. You smell like a monkey and you like one too," I said.

"Have a marvelous day, monkey," mom said.

And then I picked up my 32 year old boyfriend, Myker.