Just as Teenzilla arose with a fiery thug...I cowered in the corner. I did not know what to expect. Each day is different.
BUG: Mom, how does this look?
ME: It is a very pretty outfit. You look very nice.
BUG: Well, I need your opinion. I think I should wear a brown cardigan with it. What do you think?
ME: No. I don't think it would look right. It looks nice just the way it is and you would be too hot. Besides brown would not go.
BUG: (miffed) Fine. What about a white shirt on top of this one?
ME: No, honey. I don't think so. It is just right the way it is.
BUG: I DON'T LIKE YOU! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT? YOU DON'T HELP ME!
And so I don't know why Teenzilla would ask for my opinion and then explode when she didn't like the answer. Oh wait. It's the teenager thing. Sigh.
I left for work heavy-hearted because I don't like to leave things like that in the morning, but it has become quite regular.
So I was hated until she came home from school, crying. I received a frantic call in the middle of my workout and I had to rush home to see what was wrong. She jumped up off the couch when I strolled in all sweaty and gross and almost knocked me over with a bear hug. The tears were flowing.
Apparently, some kid at school had started a rumor about her having an oral sex moment with another boy. Little buttheads. She just sobbed and said she prides herself on being a virgin and a nice girl. It ruined her reputation, she declared.
"Mommy, I am not a slut!"
"Yes, honey, I know that."
Oh, we are so wise and old and having gone through such ugly rumors, and survived them all. I know no words I said made it better.
So it was Cheetos.
Cheetos make everything better. And ice cream. But we didn't have any.
I thought about offering some wine and chocolate, but then that would be some bad parenting. So I had it.
Cheetos. Comfort food for Teenzillas. Remember that.