Holy MatricidePosted: February 25, 2016
I can’t believe I let her talk me into this dress.
My mother has run my life all my life, and now she’s going to ruin my wedding day with this ugly ass dress.
I wanted white. I wanted to look virginal, for crying out loud. But no, “honey, white just doesn’t look right for a late summer wedding.” What does that even mean? Where does she find these obscure fashion rules that only pop up when I’m trying to make my own decisions?
And since when is June a late summer wedding anyway?
I can’t wait until Carl takes this job in Norway. Four thousand miles seems about right to get away from this woman.
I hope she doesn’t decide that’s she’s going to move with us. I don’t know what I would do then. I’d probably have to kill her.
At least we liked the same flavor cake.