Yes Chelsea, Part 2 (Patreon)

*Chelsea Richter, age 16

“What the fuck does it matter if you care or not?! I’m not your fucking doll and it’s not my job to escort you places! Enjoy your coffee. I’m going to Violette’s place.” I said. Then I threw some money on the table just so that my mom couldn’t have the satisfaction of claiming she bought me anything. To be honest, I should have thrown that drink right in her fuckin face, but she’d just hang that over my head later too. Plus, my drink wasn’t the problem. SHE was the problem.
…My drink was delicious.

Over and over my mom kept trying to schmooze me, telling me constantly how much she laaaaaaahved my hair and how pretty I looked. Several times she even offered to take me to a salon, but I was like “Okay…but like, if you like my hair then why do I need to I need to go to a salon? If you laaaahv my hair so much, why do you wanna change it?” She claimed that she just wanted to help, but wouldn’t listen to anything I said about it afterward. So I said fuck it and cut it off. I’ll go full Britney. If she wants to control me using my hair, then I’ll just get rid of it.

I realized even later that that whole trip to get coffee had basically just been her trying to get me alone and in a public place so I wouldn’t cause a scene when she tried to tell me that I should change my appearance. At first, it was totally cool. We got our drinks, sat down, and then started chatting about regular shit. It actually felt like a decent mother/daughter experience up until she started trying to convince me that we had a lot of shit in common just out of the blue and how she really liked my look. That’s when it turned to my hair and shit went downhill from there. Even worse, I realized she was giving her stupid little soccer mom friend group a play-by-play of everything I did and said. She would talk and smile and all that, then whenever there was a pause in the conversation, she would look down and start playing with her phone under the table.

I didn’t feel hurt by it really though. If anything, all she accomplished was showing me how little I actually depend on her validation and how much power I actually have as my own person. I only wish I could have recorded the look on her face when I just left her at the coffee shop by herself.
Still, going home’s gonna suck.

*Olivia Richter, age 31


“Uhhhhh…….Okay, I guess. Bye. Have fun. Love you, Chels.” I said as I sarcastically waved her off, the crazy little bitch. I know she was already gone, but I think that was her point.


I felt bad that we hadn’t really been getting along as well as we could have, especially after she told me that we had nothing in common anymore. I was sad at first and ended up locking myself up in my room for a bit after she went out with her friends. I ended up doordashing some McDonald’s and ate my feelings about it, then I got really mad at her for a little bit before just kind of staring at my ceiling, all cuddled up to my walrusy squishmallow Harvey. I got him the same day Chelsea got a llamacorn named Winona. We got them together on a whim one day from a place selling them in little mystery eggs and it was just the best thing. We were both so excited and in all honesty, as much as I love Harvey, I am glad that she got the rainbow llama. She loves that squishbaby so much.


It made me think of all the days me and Chelsea would just hang out, no strings attached and just have a great time. So I just kinda sat there and thought of all the things we both shared with the intention of bringing that up over coffee at our favorite place. Admittedly, we were in a busy area and there were like 5 pokéstops in range of where we were and there were a shitload of Magikarps everywhere, so I was a little distracted and I’m pretty sure it pissed her off.


But as much as I feel the urge to blame myself, she definitely flew off the handle and made a huge scene about how I don’t control her appearance just because I tried to offer her some advice on her hair. She’d dyed it black recently which I thought looked good, but she wasn’t taking care of it right and was getting a lot of split ends just like I did when I dyed mine in Drama Club back in high school. She accused me of trying to change her into me and vicariously live through her and I was like “Yes Chelsea, me offering to take you to get your hair styled and conditioned is really just me secretly plotting to dye it back to blonde so that we look the same.”
Honestly, she hates when I do that, but I think she sees me so much as a mom that she fails to recognize that I’m a person too. She seems to believe that my entire life revolves around her so much that she doesn’t even realize that I was exactly like her at 16 and to be honest, really haven’t changed all that much since. That and the fact that she most likely got that attitude from me in the first place. Hell, she seems to have completely forgotten what I looked like for the first like 8 years of her life.
She stormed out and started walking to friend’s house, which is funny because her friend lives like 5 miles away. I thought about offering to drive her, but after that whole hormone-driven shitshow of a display she put on, I decided to let her have her win and feel like a big girl for once. That and I was mad at her for embarrassing me in public while I was trying to be nice.
Whatever. Teenagers. I’ll see her when she gets home I guess.