Yes, Chelsea (Patreon)

*Chelsea Richter, age 16
“No mom you don’t get it. It’s NOT just a phase, it’s who I am! Stop trying to change me!” I said, and stormed out of the room. 


My mom and I used to be really close when I was little. My dad bailed when I was 2 so I never really had a male parental figure in my life which did bother me at first. But as I grew older and time went on my mom really stepped up to the plate. We played games and had tea parties and played dress up like the very best buddies. My mom always dolled me up to be her pretty little princess in tiaras and cute little Disney outfits straight from the movies. That was all fine and good when I was a kid, but that’s exactly the problem she is having now: I am NOT a kid.
When I hit high school I learned more about the world than what my mom wanted me to see and while she kept prancing around playing little blondie housewife, I outgrew my princess phase. While she sat around and got fat in front of the tv, pouring out of pair after bigger pair of mom jeans, I was developing my own edgier, unique sense of style. Sure, there was a cringey emo period at 14, but with time came experience, and I’ve embraced a whole new side of myself. One that my mom tries desperately every day to take away from me. All I hear now is how little I know about the world and how she knows me better than I do.


No matter what I do or say to at least try to salvage the relationship while maintaining my individuality, all sge ever does is roll her eyes and say “Yes Chelsea, you’re TOTALLY right. You’re going to be the ONE girl to go change the world with eyeliner and black lipstick. One day you’ll learn that blah blah blah, when you have kids you’ll know blah blah blah whatever and be just like me.”


It's toxic, disgusting, and oppressive.
It doesn’t matter that she’s afraid of my spooky black clothing or that she scoffs at my poetry. This is who I am now. I may not be mommy’s little princess anymore, but at least I haven’t lost my sense of self to Bridgerton and eclairs. 


I’m ready to make my OWN way how *I* want.
It’s the world that isn’t ready for ME. 



*Olivia Richter, age 31
“Yes Chelsea, I heard you.
…..
…..Aaaaand she’s gone. Welp. Whatever.”


My daughter and I used to be really close, but lately she’s sort of hit that rebellious teen phase. I had one, and now she’s going through it. What’s stupid is that I went out of my way to at least make sure she had a good childhood despite not exactly having a lot of money after Carl ran out. Should have known, really. That’s what I get for dating a dumbass named Carl.
We made do with what we had while I took online courses and got my degree. The early days were great. Those were the days of Frozen and Moana and dress up dates with my baby, back when she called me mommy. Still, I suppose her calling me “mom” is better than me referring to my own mother as “Kathy” just to upset her. It did.


Even now I don’t feel bad. My mom was the sort of Gen X parent that endlessly complained about how forgotten and mistreated by her parents while telling her only daughter to go outside and not come back inside until the lights came on. She never left her computer chair once the internet took off, playing the proto-Candy Crush while she smoked like a chimney and drank virtually nothing but Dr. Pepper day in and out. She never spent any time with me and even now has the audacity to insist that nothing bad ever happened between us and that SHE is the actual victim for having a daughter who drags her ‘good name’ through the mud. In reality she’s just mad that she and dad can’t just hit me to get their way anymore. Oh well.


Compared to me, Chels has it easy, but I am fully aware that she still sees me as a domineering ‘Mommy Dearest’ kinda figure because I dare try to give input on her style and fashion choices. To be honest, I don’t even hate it. More often than not, I just want to help, but doing it herself is more important to her right now. That’s fine.


She can’t hear that I know something about how she feels, but that’s mainly because I turned 28 and decided that avoiding carbs and the color pink wasn’t making me happy. So now she sees us as diametrically opposed: Me playing the fat bimbo Barbie-slash-slavedriver on par with Dolores Umbridge while she, the dark and mysterious demon-angel skinny goth girl fights against the system on her quest to smash the patriarchy and bring Hot Topic back to life.


It's an emo phase, but I can’t tell her that without upsetting her, so I try to keep the door open and let her do her thing.


I just wanna be a better parent than I had, but it still doesn’t feel good to have your little girl slam a door in your face.