I know I promised this post a few days ago, but writing it has struck fear in my heart. I needed to gather my courage to denounce the injustice I received at the hands of a tyrannical oligarch. The oligarch who birthed the mind that writes this blog.
That’s right, the first award goes to Mother.
I recently went on a trip home to Hawai’i where my family spoils me with all the food my island heart (and fat kid body) wants to eat. On my first night home, I expected there to be rivers of sushi, mountains of mac salad, a plethora of sticky rice. Father wanted McDonald’s.
One wonders why Father isn’t receiving this award first, but Father had rescued me from the airport and immediately whisked me away to eat sushi. Father also lets me have any food I want, so if he needs McDonald’s that badly then who am I to hold a grudge. Besides, Mother went into protest mode and said she wanted something else. She promised we’d get our own food before going to the McDonald’s drive thru. Off we went and Mother pulls up to…Subway.
What?! Ok, I love Subway, I can deal with this. Heck, it’s one of the places the Hubster hates, so as far as I’m concerned this is a win for Mother. And then it all went wrong.
I order my sandwich and Mother begins to order hers. First they don’t have the sandwich filling Mother wants, then they don’t have the bread Mother likes. Mother announces she won’t be getting anything but I should continue to order mine. I assume Mother is going to be joining father with a burger from McDonald’s.
Mother and I get back into the car and as I’m happily plotting my attack on a footlong sandwich made just the way I like it, Mother drives past the McDonald’s. As my befuddled mind tries to sort this out, Mother makes another turn and I know instantly where she is going. The betrayal of the next few moments burns so deeply into my psyche that I may never be the same.
Mother pulls up to the Taco Bell window.
As I begin to weep, Mother calmly orders her meal. She then proceeds to pay and then hand me her bag so that she can drive. She HANDED ME THE BAG knowing I had to eat a sandwich. A sandwich that had once been revered but had now become an oppressive weight on my lap.
No amount of bread was going to make me feel good this night, the night that Mother proved she was the tyrant I always suspected her to be.
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