when my mum lost her weight a lot of things changed.
my mum was clinically obese and had always been a chubby kid. regardless of the abundance of sports she played something was always wrong with her body to those around her, too muscly or too lardy. i remember how sad she was. how she'd cry with chips half eaten in her mouth, and the way she looked at me when i'd done the same. she had gorgeous baby blue eyes that i used to think twinkled when she smiled and she used to cup my face with the softest touch.
in 2015 she went on her 'weight loss journey', at 5am she'd run up the hill by our house 12 times and then throw up. she'd pop into the kitchen make herself something nutritious and go get ready for work. it was a rigorous schedule, but she didn't stop, not once. when she reached her goal weight i could finally fit my short arms around her slim waist. i'd never been more proud of the determination and resilience she'd showcased. but due to recent events i realised she was a liar. she'd pushed her 'miracle diet' onto anyone half-listening. "it was the book!" "it was small plates!" "it was the tea's!" she had her stomach stapled.
mum later got a new job as a saleswoman for a line of wedding dresses. this was joined with many brands throughout the modern establishment. it was a hot-spot for young workers and my mum was not that. surrounded by thin, tanned 20 year old's my mum, obviously, changed. it was like she became infected with idealism and youth. the best years of her life she'd never gotten were suddenly waiting for her. it started once a week, she'd go out during the night with her instagram famous friends and come back the next morning. the number increased to three nights a week, to four, to five. my dad used to wait up for her with a bottle of red and a hopeless smile. until she never came home before he'd fallen asleep. an empty bottle clinking a stained glass.
she met a man that made her feel beautiful there. a builder named fuckface who apparently cherished her more than her husband. when dad picked me up every tuesday he'd run into coles, find the brightest bouquet of roses he couldn't afford and place them in her favourite corner of the house. she'd drive into the garage everyday with my brother and i tumbling out to greet her. i adored her. i adored her when she hustled us aside and ignored dad. i adored her when she didn't come home and i had nightmares. i adored her until i grew up.
she turned my dad into an alcoholic. my 13 year old brother found her sexts to some random on kik and turned to joints. my oldest brother's anger issues worsened as she screamed at him, so he turned into her. i loved my mother more than words can explain. i put up with it until dad left and she forced me to stay with her. when she brought fuckface over under the guise of 'our builder' dad picked me up. i had to leave my cul-de-sac, my dog, my brothers, my grand-parents. i haven't seen any of my family since christmas day. but she hasn't paid dad his money yet. she's kicked both my brother's out more than 20 times and she's sent me so much bullshit, presents of chocolate and weight loss magazines and attempted to guilt-trip me more times than i can count. i haven't seen her for six months.
maybe they stapled her brain instead of her stomach.
this was just a rant i have a lot of repressed feelings bc of....that.