Get Off of My Face…

I have had it up to my eyeballs with narcissists. I have had it up to my boobs with the perpetual drama entailed in anything regarding my mother in law; the 83 old energizer bunny, who needs to be coddled, admired and ass kissed. Twenty eight years of cold, hard intolerance of anything not “righteous” while also being the world’s most humongous hypocrite. In all of my days I have not seen a woman this spoiled and self serving. On a good year, we don’t have too much interaction-or as little interaction as one could have, while maintaining eye contact.

I spoke to Jesus about how I have forgiven her seventy times seven, at the very least. I asked him to please give me the grace to get through this freaking anniversary party-that they are giving themselves, two weeks after the exact same party was held at their home. This time they are renting a church hall, and I was asked two months ago if I would do the flowers.


I used vintage glass dug up from a century old dump at the back of our property. I still have years of excavating ahead, this was a Godsend. What I thought to be a rubbish pile and eye sore, turned out to be the beginning of a dream come true. I used wildflowers and tiny rosebuds, lavender, brown eyed susans and herbs of color. Alas, it was not meant to be-even my so called friends at the time paid me no mind. (My closest friends were there for the grand opening) God had other plans, and that is why I am writing to you at this moment in time. I went to the eye doctor today, and I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed putting “Writer,” in the avocation box. My whole point? I was obviously qualified for the job.

The first slap in the face was her desire to “go to the dollar store and get uniform vases, and then we can go pick out some paper flowers,” completely ignoring my acres of gardens which are full to this day.

The second SLAP was this afternoon, when I told her that rather than walk down to her house in the pouring down rain-hurricane Mike-with a dilation procedure optical migraine, I would be down the next morning. May I remind you that last week, she blew my top off by telling me she would have to “get someone else to do the flowers” if we didn’t go shopping for tacky crap, and soon. I received an apology, after my best friend phoned her and set her straight. I didn’t ask her to call her, but after that my MIL was all about me using real flowers and whatever containers I wanted, even USING A DIFFERENT VASE AT EACH TABLE!!!!

She understands that I will not be doing the flowers until the day of the party, Sunday morning. But she says this anyway:

“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Judas Priest, Marilyn Manson and the B52s!!!

No concern for my headache. No I understand, there is a monsoon outside. No, that will be fine, END OF FUCKING STORY.

I reassure her that I will be down in the morning. Two full days before anything needs to be done. I promise just wanting to end the mother loving conversation.

“(fake laughter) Because if you don’t want to do this….”

And right at that moment, after my cranium spontaneously combusted?

I hung up on the bitch.