And Yes I Am, Weary, Yes I Am

August 1, 2009

I’ve been at home for about 40 minutes now, and talked to my parents for about 1.  I really didn’t do much talking other than telling my dad to literally “Shut the hell up.”  In that one minute, they managed to piss me off.  How you might ask?  By giving me shit about the way I look.  Apparently losing weight means I’m starving myself.  Good fucking god that pisses me off.  “You better not starve yourself.”  Or “You should eat more.”  No I should not.  I don’t want a fucking gut anymore and I don’t want to be unhealthy getting sick all the time.  Fucking Asian parents need to read a fucking book, or a fitness magazine at that.  Obviously they know nothing of my eating habits; or that all I do all day is sit and eat.  It’s depressing.  So at the end of the day, what I do is try not to sit on my ass anymore and do something active.  Even if they did know this they would still bitch, bitch, bitch for me to eat more.  Them trying to stuff my face as a kid was what made me a fat ass in elementary and middle school.  Do I want to relive that unhealthy 15-minute-mile running life style?  No.  So please back the fuck off.  I know what I’m doing damnit.

And because I’ve been trying to run more lately, I’ve gotten a bit of a tan.  My mom goes on and makes a big deal about this about how I’m so dark and ugly now.  The two not directly correlating of course (she’s not that racist I think).  But ugly?  I went over this before, about how my mom has called me ugly.  What kind of parent who isn’t mentally ill calls their child ugly?  Frankly, it’s fucked up, even if the child is an adult.  As I was taking the abuse, I considered some comebacks that came to mind right away, but didn’t say anything.  I should’ve though.  “Well I got it from you (you old bat).”  But let’s not forget the saying, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”  I suppose this doesn’t apply to mothers and fathers.

Then the other thing.  My mom still bitches about the length of my hair.  Well no shit it’s long.  What does she expect when someone doesn’t cut it?  She knows I’m going to get a haircut this weekend, so why the hell is she nagging and bitching and insulting me?  It’s absolutely obnoxious and annoying.  It’s not good for my mental health.  I bet they wonder why our relationship is so shaky at times:  it’s because all they like to do is nag and bitch about shit that should be personal to myself, ourselves, my sister and I.  I would love it for my dad to stop worrying about my finances when I’m perfectly fine with it all.  I’m not drowning in debt, I pay my credit card bills on time, I pay my rent on time, I’m not overspending on stupid shit.  Please just fuck off.

When they do shit like this, do they not realize that is why my sister and I want to be far away from home?  My sister wants to live close enough to visit on weekends and stuff sometimes, but I want to get the fuck away from them and their incessant nagging and bitching.  San Diego just doesn’t seem far away enough at times.

Maybe this is childish, but they can pretty much forget about using my new camera on their vacation.


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