You know that saying about poker? "If after the first twenty minutes you don't know who the sucker is at the table, it's you."
The no hold's barred style I now use to blast my mother is new to me. I would have never talked about her like this in the past. But to find out I was never spared from that mouth of hers was a surprise. I thought the bitch liked me.
Well, fuck her.
My sister and I didn't sugar coat the way she is. Not to each other. We lived with the bitch and knew the harsh reality of her and we knew the truth. Telling others would only get us the John Belushi stink eye and we got enough of that at home.
I told women. I felt I had to. If we were closing in on some kind of relationship. But I kept it to a nuts and bolts accounting of her misdeeds. There's a fine line between disclosure and having people think you are cut from the same loonistic, babble ass, shit-cloth as her.
If I had known how infinitely crazy this bitch really was, I would have never brought any one over to meet her.
But I was clueless. She ran every one else through a wood chipper when they were out of the room. Why did I think I was exempt?
I think back on all kinds of things people said to me over the years. The really off the wall things that cropped up after someone met my mother. It makes total sense today. Knowing she had told them god only knows what about me. I can malign my own reputation well enough with no help from her.
She trashed us all. And did an excellent job of playing the ends against the middle. It's the only thing she does well.
I'll never forget that smirk of hers. That smirk she gets as she pops the clutch into narcissistic rage and waits for that dumbfounded look creeping across someone's face when they finally understand what a crazy ass bitch she is.
Me telling her to fuck off on the phone will have to do. She didn't get to see me when I connected the dots and made it full circle.
That mouth of hers can make a train take a dirt road.
And I never have to hear it again.