Like everything in life, I have my strengths and weaknesses when it comes to responsibility. For example, I know better than to accept a drink from a stranger, but I have no problem blowing money I don’t have on my own drinks. It’s like, in that same night I kept myself from the possibility of being drugged while also demonstrating my life as an #IndependentWoman. But if I were to do some real soul searching, it would take about .2 seconds before I would acknowledge that I am not that independent at all. Or at least, not financially.
Like any girl who goes to extreme lengths to get a guy to like her, I’m a home ec protege. I can whip up a delicious dinner, spot clean a college apartment, and keep an impressive GPA all while keeping my makeup perfectly smudge free. I will hold my nose up high as I inform someone that I pay for my fake nails, not my parents. It feels great up on my high horse to be able to brag about my fiscal abilities. The “um actually,” I snarl at those who refer to me as a spoiled brat when I get to say that I pay for my rent, groceries, and dues is gratifying. But the truth is, it’s a little hollow. I mean, I do pay for those things, but I still have my mom and dad as a safety net.
The only reason I can afford my regular highlights is because my parents still pay for my school, books, car repairs, etc. Without those extra expenses it’s easy to live the high life. And, if I ever were to go a bit too crazy, I know that in an emergency I have my parents to fall back on. As selfish as it sounds, I’m not ready to give that up. I know, I know. I am a legal adult, but holy fuck I am not ready. So every time my parents make a little *hint* that I will someday very soon have to walk into the world as a real adult, a part of me dies.
“So our family phone plan contract ends two months after your graduation. Have you looked into what carrier you want to use?”
Oh, real convenient timing. There’s nothing more hurtful than getting cut from something that literally has the word “family” in the name. It’s like when your parents take their first family vacation without you and you have to pretend like you didn’t even want to go. Like, silly me, here I was thinking our family stuck together. We shouldn’t be giving into these societal pressures to “grow up.” Your wallets are my wallets, my bills are your bills. It’s called “sharing,” Mother. But if you want to toss your own daughter into the life of track phones, then I hope you’re prepared for the drug dealing boyfriend I will inevitably get to satisfy this new aesthetic.
“We are so excited for you and your sister moving to Texas together. Rent is so much cheaper there than in Southern California, and you’ll still have your room to visit.”
This was their reaction to my mentioning the possibility of moving into my sister’s guest house in Texas. This was not a set in stone thing. If we’re being completely honest, this was a casual mention of a drunk conversation I had with her over text. But way to really push it, Dad. I’m surprised he didn’t start packing my shit for me while saying this. Really nice to let me know I can come visit too. I was a little worried that you were going to physically ship my bedroom to an empty lot.
“I just hope that if you get to a point where you can’t afford to feed yourself and Meatball, that you have the decency to re-home him.”
Jesus. Meatball is my very loving teacup Pomeranian. He only eats about .5 cups of food a day, but I’m glad to know in the event that he and I are literally starving, my parents’ solution is to sell him. What a bleak look into the future. Not only are they fully expecting me not to be able to feed myself, but they also would rather see me lose my puppy than help. Which, like, kay they don’t need to bail me out. But omg.
“I’m not sending [our family’s tax person] your stuff this year. So you can either find someone cheaper to do them for you or figure them out yourself.”
This is what I like to call a double whammy. In simpler times, I used to send my tax forms to my parents like I was a fifth grader who got an A on her spelling test. It was our little way of showing each other that I was earning a good employment history for myself and my parents were always proud. Then I would reward myself with a well-deserved shopping trip with my tax return money. But not his year. Oh no. This year, as I stared dumbfounded at all the little boxes wondering what the fuck any of them meant, I just started crying. That’s something I was never told. Adulthood is just a lot of wine induced crying as my “easy to follow” step by step tax guide thoroughly fucks my brain. I didn’t choose a math heavy major for a reason.
“Remember how you called me your first year at college because you didn’t know how to pump gas into your car? Well I just want to make sure you’re better prepared. I want to know that you’ll have some clue what you’re doing when you buy a house in Texas.”
Just to clear something up, this was going off the same single statement I made MONTHS ago that I might think about moving to Texas. Since then my parents have fully decided that is where I am being shipped off to and never returning. Renting is too temporary. They need the peace of mind that I can adequately set up shop permanently several states away. El oh el at buying a house period. Yesterday I spent 10 minutes deciding what I wanted to by as a snack before my 10am class. I broke down under pressure and grabbed a cheese bagel. I hate cheese bagels. You think I’m emotionally stable enough to make grown up decisions?
“Your father and I feel like we aren’t doing you any favors by continuing to fund your partying. Which is why we have decided that after graduation we are completely cutting you off financially, including paying for Law School.”
This one is anyone’s guess. I don’t know what the fuck they’re trying to say here. It’s a little out of the blue if you ask me. I’d chalk this up to a classic case of miscommunication, but when I said that out loud, she responded “I think it will be good for you to have some motivation to do well. And you can always take a year or two off to work and save up if you feel like need to. It will be easy to save some money, seeing as rent in Texas is so cheap.” I swear it’s like these people are a broken record..
Image via Iakov Filimonov | Shutterstock
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Blue-eyed-blondie
Blondie excels at being an underachiever. She is currently trying to add an extra year onto her undergrad so she can continue to down $7 bottles of wine in an environment that encourages her erratic behavior. After graduation, she has big plans to flunk out of a prestigious law school. Email her compliments and Netflix suggestions at blue.eyed.blondie.tsm@gmail.com EDIT** if you suggest Black Mirror she's already seen it. So stop suggesting it. Seriously. Please stop suggesting it.
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