There’s a woman who’s been trying to get up since dawn, to get the wreckage into gear, and dash, and spend, and pray she has enough petrol.
A woman who works all day and returns home to put in another shift by the fridge. And that takes the time to read the latest dubious story linking ISIS membership with wayward teenagers whose mothers work outside the home; or half half (OK, quarter) listen to yours.
There is a woman who will sit up all night with a Netflix series, and will not rest until the finale is over; who hides at the school gates rain, hail or shine; who feeds her pet hates; makes the bed just before getting into it, puts the candid feelings into cake, and makes your wishes up for you. You’re a bank manger! You have the power to let me borrow all your birthday money!
Yes! Found the Green & Black’s
There’s a woman who spends all her time, all her money, all her love, on the things and the people that matter. Like coffee, and toilet paper, and overdue Xtravision fees.
And through every hour, she will always be fed the feeling that she should feel she is not giving enough, not doing enough, not consuming enough.
Mothers, you do enough to put up with this insufferable bullshit. Now let us do something for you. Like stopping the exploitation of your bankrupt consumerist vulnerabilities, and the relentless rampant rifling of human emotion to sell you something else.
Mothers, you’re amazing…ly gullible if you fall for it.
FauxHealth: My cover. My arse.