My mother, 57 years old and 5 foot nothin’, is the smallest thug on the face of the Earth. Ask anyone. There’s no one who didn’t fear or respect my mother (except my cousins. They don’t know the truth about her lol. Your sweet Tia is a thug don’t let her fool you.) She ran a tight ship. She’s the type of mother who would give you a bag of Doritoes to distract you and then run up behind you to rip out that loose tooth you want to keep playin with. That didn’t happen to me tho. I found it a better option to pull out my own teeth. We were all as well controlled as we could be considering she’d breed a litter just like herself. We all have an uncontrollable Napoleon complex. We all want to control the fucking world with a perverse sense of entitlement.
Exactly one year ago I thought….
My Mother didn’t play too many games. When her cherry red, 95 Jeep Cherokee (which was pretty fly even though it was 03) would pull up in the Burger King parking lot, she’d yell at me in Spanish, calling me names that cut me deeper than she’d intended, and I’d chuck deuces to the Booooys (which included an original 3 females and still the fuck does, if you ask me), & walk calmly to the car. This was regular for me. It was all worth it. Here was the logic: You do what you want. You get yelled at a little bit. She’d realize how dumb she looked, and I’d be at it again next weekend.
She was just afraid I was doing more. And I was. But I wasn’t. I spent my teenage days at the same park everyday. Sun up to sun down really. And I wish I could say I played ball while I was there, but I wasn’t that butch of a girl. I used to chill with my friends and watch the boys play and saved the jump shots for the gym. When I wasn’t forced to be good, I indulged in being bad. What else would a teenage girl want to do?