To the Amherst Mommy I had the misfortune of sitting next to at Barnes & Noble story time this morning:
Where does your sense of entitlement come from? I'm curious. Maybe I can pick some of that up somewhere so that I can feel okay about being a bitch in public, both to others around me and to my own child, for no good reason.
I'm sorry you had to share the tiny child-sized bench with my pregnant self. I'm sure your surgically-enhanced body would've preferred a bench to itself, but...well, I'm big, I'm tired, and I deserve to sit down, but it was mighty white of you to ask first before you plopped down. I will say, though, that I found it a bit unnecessary when you continued to "tsk" and shoot daggers my way whenever I shifted to keep the sciatic pain to a minimum.
Oh, and your 22-month-old daughter? Is it really necessary to paint her nails, put sparkly eye shadow and lip gloss on her for story time? I mean, it's a little ridiculous that you put this on her at all, but for story time? I realize the tendency of the majority of moms in Amherst is to dress to impress - it's evident wherever you go here, but really - this is story time. Look around you. Most of us moms of children 2 and under are lucky to get without our pajamas on. I'm not sure who you were dressing up for, but you sure didn't impress any of us. In fact, when you left early? We all started talking about you.
Your kid, by the way, is a brat. I'm not quite sure why you forced her to sit through stories when she very clearly didn't want to be there. I really don't think the way you grabbed her and wrestled her out of her coat was entirely appropriate. Moms get frustrated - that's part of the job - but you're lucky I stifled the hormones and kept my mouth shut as I sat, watching open-mouthed, at the way you physically handled your child. It was disgusting. I understand the need to get out of the house - believe me - but I'm sure there was a coffee shop or nail salon out there with your name on it that you could've patronized instead, shipping your kid off to someone else to watch her while you indulged in yourself, as I got the feeling you often do.
Oh, and a word of advice. Next time, skip the Botox appointment and head over to an esthetician for some electrolysis. I've never spotted a woman whose arm hair rivaled that of Robin Williams' until I had the pleasure of being your seatmate today. Kind of ruined the effect of the $200 pink blouse you were wearing, know what I mean? I felt unclean just looking at those hairy beasts.
See you next Friday!