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Dealing with Mother - or - Who is This Woman?

She's like fat Persian cat sitting on a satin pillow waiting for the world stroke her silky hair, at her bidding of course.
She thinks it's a privilege when she lets you sniff her puckered cat ass. Surely the entire world is interested in a whiff.

You don't know how often I wish I could once again just be her daughter... not her maid, her cook, her legal secretary, her chauffeur, hair stylist and general caretaker.
She doesn't need any of the above except the transportation part, good god she should never again be behind the wheel.
(OK maybe some help with the hair for church too)

She sits in her chair and reads, watches TV and cheats at crossword.
She doesn't talk to me much and she wants to be fed.

Everything I knew about her, every enjoyment I once shared with her is gone. This is not the woman I experienced as a child or as an adult. I would not choose to spend time with this person, I would not chose this person as a friend.

I don't think it matters to her that it's me... I don't think if I were gone and someone else was doing her bidding that she would miss me.

What she would miss, is if someone wasn't there to wait on her... anyone will do.
© Dove

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