Mrs. Brown, You've Got A Lovely Daughter

So, I was hit with a strange reality recently. And I find it strange that I describe this reality as strange because in reality, well... it's not strange at all. Here is what I discovered....


I'm getting old. Okay, not that old. But old for me, seeing as though I have never been this old before. And I'm getting, wait....... wait for it...... shall I say, uhhhh mature?! I don't know when it started and I can't figure out how to make it stop. On top of all that nonsense, I find myself acting like... drumroll, please.... MY MOTHER (who is only slightly older than me, let me make that very clear). I was told many times by my oh-so-wise maternal figure that this would happen one day, but never got around to believing it and now the time has come. Damn, I hate when she's right.


Exhibit A: I have this girlfriend (whom I will refer to as Bernise because I think that's the weirdest name ever - don't worry, it's not her actual name - I wouldn't associate with a Bernise)... Anyways, so Bernise has had some recent developments in her life. Some pretty damn big ones, to be honest.  Here she was...  skipping along, smelling the roses, watching sunsets, whispering sweet nothings into her lover's ear, when all of a sudden - BAM. Brick wall, baby. Without boring you with the grisly details, I'll skip straight from A to Z. He broke up with her. Yanked that Persian rug right out from underneath her, ripped out her heart and stomped on it like yesterdays garbage, tore it to pieces kinda like the card from my ex boyfriend I recently discovered and put through the shredder - God, he was such a dick. Anyways, I am on the receiving end of this phone call after "said event" takes place and I gotta admit... it wasn't pretty. She is a girl and she was hurt, understandably so.  My heart ached for her because let's face it, we've all been there. There were lots of F bombs being dropped, lots of "Whyyyyyyyy MEEEEEEEEE????" 's, lots of tears, lots of "Damn him, that mother fucker has no idea I was the best thing that ever happened to him and he will regret ever losing me one day, that stupid ass idiot!" type of comments.  Everything she said was justifiable. She had every reason to feel this way, she earned the right to cry and bitch and moan. And this is when I realized that I had (here it comes)... apparently matured overnight. And I turned. into. my. mother.

What came out of my mouth next wasn't probably what she expected. My advice to her? Same advice my mother has given me through my last 853 breakups/1 divorce. "Babe, you are better than that. Walk away with your head held high, thank him for all he ever did for you, tell him you love him and hope he finds happiness. And you will find your happiness too,  just be patient. Life is too good to be unhappy. Everything is gonna be just fine, you'll see." I didn't curse the ex's name, I didn't tell her what a piece of shit he was, I didn't ask her if she needed help leaving his singed belongings in the front yard. Now, if you know me then you know that when it comes to my friends and family having been wronged or hurt, this mama don't mess around. Typically, it doesn't even matter if my friend/family member is the culprit or the victim... I'm defending them because that's what friends do. Open my mouth and the nasty insults would hit the ground running. I always avoided the fine "white trash" line by never taking it to a physical level, but I would tear someone's ass UP in a heated battle of words.  I wanted the name, number, address, and first born child from the ass hole that made you cry. No way were you gonna hurt someone I love and then fly under the radar, you can balee' dat real quick.



Now that I have scared away any potential suitors or anyone who isn't already close to me but could be one day, let me clarify a few things. A) Just because you have read the above and you know I am from the hills of Gaw-gia does not mean that I am a white trash, ghetto or redneck. I do have some class. And standards. On most days. B) I have never gotten into a physical fight, nor would I ever. Ever. EVER. I would be TERRIFIED if anyone ever tried to lay a finger on me. I'm talking run-like-a-damn-crybaby-while-yelling-over-my-shoulder-to-please-leave-me-alone-or-my-dad-will-press-charges type of terrified. C) I'm really not all that scary and I can promise you most of what I "say" is probably conjured up and over-dramatized in my own little head. I (used to) think I was a lot more badass than I was. It'd be entertaining to watch myself during one of those "popping off at the mouth" episodes because I'm sure I'd be quite confused as to why it didn't go down at all like I remembered and why nothing coming out of mouth made a lick of sense.



Here recently though, I just can't find the purpose in all that nonsense. Just seems a bit ridiculous. If you wanna be a hoochie mama and sleep with my boyfriend, go right ahead. I'll graciously bow out and let you have the reigns, hope you have fun and I'll catch you on the flip side. If you want to talk smack about my mom, do it (probably wouldn't let it get back around to her, though... jess sayin'). I will pity you and pray you find whatever it is that is apparently lacking in your life. If my brother calls me, devastated because his best friend stole his wallet and racked up a bar bill at Runaround Sue's, I'd say... well, I'd say 2 things: A) "Let it go, Bubba (I retract the "I'm not a redneck" statement). He is the one who has to live with himself. You were a good friend to him and what goes around comes around." and B) "Uhhhh, seriously? Runaround SUE'S? WTF? He couldn't come up with a classier establishment to spend your money? Who even hangs out there anymore?"


Life is just too damn short, y'all. Don't get me wrong, I get pissed off sometimes. I check out of reality from time to time, have my moment, and then check back in. I scream, I yell, I cuss (shocking, I know). BUT... maturity comes from being able to have those moments very seldom and only with yourself. Every single person on this planet falls asleep at night with their own conscience and no one else's. Make sure it's one that you can be proud of, one that reflects who you are and the GOOD choices you have made. Because the truth of the matter is, ain't nobody making your decisions but you. Take responsibility for them, own them, apologize sincerely if need be, pull a Jay-Z by brushin' yo shoulders off and then keep on steppin'. Sometimes having the last word will force you to shoot yourself in the foot. You know the drill... If you don't have anything nice to say, keep your big mouth shut. Trade the trashy for classy, it looks much better on you.



*** Shout out to Mom... Being just like you ain't so bad :) PS - Remember spanking me with that damn wooden spatula as a kid? It definitely got the point across. Thanks for the good tip, it's stored somewhere in the back of my sick head for future reference... and use.