A Sorceress Was Born

“A person can only rise so high. Now I’m rising above, but there’s a ceiling and I’m about to hit it.” – Dr. Miranda Bailey

And so it goes on and on. It never really stops, does it this family drama? I know I am rambling so I shall pause, take a breath, attempt to calm myself down.. and truly begin this horrific story about the BIG ARSED COUSIN of mine.

After the whole invasion episode, it is fair to say I was behaving slightly (but not alarmingly) standofish with the whale. I mean, you can’t possibly ransack my house, tear apart my privacy leaving only destruction in your wake and expect me to be all smiles and welcomes. But never once did I make it clear I did not want her in my house (alright maybe once when she came up and I didn’t even turn to look at her face. I stayed in the kitchen, dutifully making pancakes and ignoring her). But that apart, we actually were still cordial when we worked out together in the gym (though when I think about it now, I was a little moody but I shall stop trying to implicate myself any further).

So on Friday evening (2 days ago), I received a text message from the abomination that must surely be God’s worst mistake (after the creation of the Devil himself). She said she wanted to borrow some face paint for Halloween that she lent me a couple of years back. I replied saying that since I didn’t use it at all she could have it back. I also said I had passed them to my maid and anytime she’s nearby she can call my maid down.

She replied something cryptic like,” I wouldn’t have minded coming up to get them but no worries, thanks anyway.” I WAS DOING HER  A FAVOUR (in actuality) saving her a trip from coming up to have to collect the face paint. BUT NO, being the bitch she is, she had to act all bitchy.

I left it at that because I wanted to shower. But then I realised, there was still a leeway for her to come to my house (she has a knack for inserting and appearing in places where she’s clearly unwanted) if the product was lying in my house. I got my younger sister who was sending another sister of mine (yes there are 6 kids in my house) for tuition classes and I told her to drop those face paint off. And she did. So when she reached, she called MEGA BITCH WITH FAT ARSE out to collect them but she started rambling on the phone how she is upset because clearly i was behaving rudely and making it obvious that she in unwelcomed in my house (though that is the truth, I never MADE it that obvious, I swear). If you were to go by my messages and the way we were still cordially talking and working out, you would never have jumped to the conclusion she did (I further corroborated this when I told my parents the incident of the FLARING-UP-FOR-NO-REASON and he agreed she was just creaking a ruckus over nothing). She made a big drama about how HER dad would be so upset and how she will no longer come to our house since she is unwelcomed here. My sister tried to calm her down and told her she is over reading into what was a typical message but she wasn’t one to calm down (and according to her, she also wasn’t one to blow things out of proportion. WHAT WAS THIS THEN? If this isn’t what you’d call making a mountain of a molehill, can you imagine the kind of DRAMA she is used to?). My sister simply ended the conversation and she received 2 more texts after that affirming that said cousin wouldn’t come over ever.

Then I came home and was alerted to the drama and I rang her up immediately to clear the air. I did not want my families involved because truth be told, my Dad gets affected when his brother doesn’t speak to him (as is normal) and knowing this sorceress, she is capable of magicking something out of nothing (as seen in the episode), and she is also very capable at manipulating facts and I was afraid she could do some potential damage. So I made light on the phone and I even What’s Apped her but she didn’t reply. On the phone she said she’d call me back. She didn’t till Sunday.

I actually posted a picture of a quote that was about throwing out people who sucked the happiness out of your life and I blocked her on What’s App and my phone but she still managed to send me an SMS after (Gotta check my damn phone’s ability to add contacts to the reject list PROPERLY). She said can she come collect those personal training sheets my trainer had left us (her copy was with me). I didn’t reply and she called but I was on the other line.

So after a while (even though I put the phone down pretty quickly), I called her back and she was all normal. THAT BITCH. Really a meg, fucking two-faced cow. Always creating drama. If she thinks we are ever going to be normal after this well, she’s in for a shock and she can take her 2 FAT faces and go for a bloody hike to hell.

I hate her and she is one person who’s death will mean nothing but an interminable road filled with happiness.

I really wish I could just cut out these toxic bitches from my life and carry on because really I was much better when I used to ignore her (yes her antics started from way back and she was and is the bane of my existence).

Gosh! This sucks. But now, I gotta go back to behaving like a hypocrite who likes her because my pansy family cannot afford to get into a feud.

Invasion

Yesterday was one of the many normal days I have been having. I went for my Personal Training session at the Gym in my condominium with my cousin (whom I hate but tolerate because it’s cheaper to buddy-train and no one else is available to do so).

My training days with E (Trainer) is usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the evenings and Sundays in the mornings. But since she was sick, she had rescheduled it to Friday evening (i.e. yesterday). At first, my huge-assed cousin said she could not make it and so I privately messaged the Trainer (instead of in our What’s App Group) to come earlier and do a solo for me. She agreed to come at 4pm (Note, huge-assed cousin is working and cannot make it any other time other than in the evenings). That was settled. Then suddenly, said cousin who was ‘endowed’ with an alarming-sized posterior sent me a text saying I should have let her in on my plans and made it transparent in the group chat that we were still going to go ahead with training (Again take note, she already told us she COULDN’T make it and I only made plans AFTER she told me she was tied up. Also, all this while when she had been down with a calf injury, this was the way I planned my solo sessions with the trainer – by privately messaging her.) I was angry but I told myself whatever and actually took the pains to reschedule to an evening session (despite it being my birthday and that I MAY have plans – though I most definitely did not. Birthdays are not my thing.). After the session we usually have to do some cardio workout on our own but since I knew some cousins were coming over I had already done my cardio before hand and I left right after training while HAC (huge-assed cousin) apparently stayed back (though just for a while because she came up pretty quickly to my house to shower because she had a dinner to attend to with her sisters, who also came over for a while and my lame-assed Uncle who’s a dimwit – I know, I have an overwhelming, uncontrollable love for my extended family). And that was when trouble began.

In case you haven’t quite picked up on the fact that I hate my cousin, I HATE MY COUSIN. She is a nosy, manipulative bitch and she thrives on gleaning information from one household so she can
(a) use it for herself
(b) use it for her entertainment as she spreads stuff around
(c) maliciously twist the information out of context and then spread it around.

Basically, she is an attention-seeking whore. She came into MY kitchen and helped herself to MY FRUITS and my GREEK YOGHURT. I was using an alternative brand and there was about 70g of it left and I didn’t care if it was FINISHED by the said bitch because usually I do not eat that brand. I only bought it because my usual one was out of stock. But then MY MOTHER DEAREST had to tell her oh don’t worry there’s another kind and she opened the OTHER fridge and took out my usual yoghurt to give her a spoonful so she could hit a 100g (oh she was using my food scale too). ALL OF THESE WITHOUT EVEN CONSULTING ME or at least PRETENDING TO ASK ME IF IT WAS OK. Bitch face.

And at that point, she saw my huge collection of greek yoghurt tubs (usual one that I had finally bought after they kept being sold out and so many places) and she went back another time to TAKE A PICTURE pretending to my sister that she had to ‘keep a food log because the trainer said so’. HELLO, if that were true you would have handed in the food log 8 weeks ago, cow.

At that point, I was still unaware of this happening and I sat down to eat my dinner across from her in the table and the bitch so obviously moved the glass bottle that was obscuring her view  of my plate so that she could SEE what I was eating and as usual comment on it.

I was really, deeply insulted and I was simmering inside. I wish she would drop dead because honestly, nobody likes her. Most definitely not me. Her invasion of my home and privacy is not something I tolerate well. I feel like I HAVE to hide in my own house. I have training with her again tomorrow and I had to tell my mother to be on the lookout for a text that I would send before coming up so she could serve my breakfast in my bedroom and under some “I need the toilet” pretense, I’ll lock myself in and eat in peace. I also told my maid/helper to change the location of my tubs from one Fridge to another (the beauty of having 3 fridges) so that when she comes and tries to take one, we are all going to tell her to fuck off. Ok now, my mum is too nice and she is only a party to this because she knows it upsets me to have my LIFE scrutinised. So when she asks (and boy am I willing to bet my life on that), we will say, “Oh we have given those away. Those weren’t for me. I bought them for a friend.” The shit we have to resort to to protect our privacy and semblance of sanity.

But I also analaysed this:
She may know what brand of yoghurt I eat but:
(a) it is incredibly hard to get that particular brand so I will say I got it from blahblahblah
(b) she cannot possibly be me. That’s just one aspect of the variety of foods I consume. Just because she knows one thing doesn’t mean she can deduce the amount, time, frequencies and type of meals I eat. In this race, she is still lagging behind. And I am happy for that. I know I sound like a bitch but you haven’t met her and she’s toxic. I wish I could cut her out but oh boy, that doesn’t happen in our desi families where tolerating gossip and being continuously back-stabbed is preferable to having a peaceful life.

It is my time to shine. So bitch, take a seat and don’t hold your breath.

F.

Smothered or Protected?

I feel suffocated sometimes. I feel like I am being smothered. I can’t breathe and I can’t move. I am still and unmoving, stuck in this perpetual gloom. I feel throttled by no other but by my own parents.

I understand that they think they are just doing their job, that they are only protecting me. But where does one draw the line? It’s already a thin, fine, blurry line between being protected and being stifled.

I am the eldest in my family of 6 siblings. Naturally, I am the go-to person for them. That is alright. I like doing things for them, running errands, solving their problems and even just lending a listening ear. However, there are times when it gets too overwhelming. The worst part is, I can’t just shut it down, the chaos that’s all around me. What makes it even worse, is the expectations my parents have.

I do not go out. No literally, I don’t. I go to school and back. At times, I catch up with old friends, but these outings are far and few between. I am just always chauffeuring my siblings here and there, to and fro. What makes me so angry is the fact that I find my parents constantly breathing down my neck, even though it is DEFINITELY not warranted. Their excuse: I am entitled to. I am your mother/father.

My dad invariably looks out for me to carry out his tasks. His reasons are that I am meticulous, responsible and efficient and he only has the confidence in me to do what needs to be done. This is very flattering, I know. But when I can’t seem to do my own things, doing things for others just overwhelms me. I am a little OCD (and therein lies the reason for my being responsible and efficient) and when given a task, I put myself in 150% and that drains me a lot. With all the other things I have to juggle (sending & picking, school work, entertaining my siblings by taking time apart and watching a show together), I can’t seem to find any free time for myself. As such, I get stressed. A highly-strung, OCD, stressed person almost always translates into a nuclear bomb. Yes, that’s right. It means I explode. I get highly irritable, I lose my temper in a blink of an eye and I am restless. I cannot sit still or enjoy a meal slowly because I know there are things that need to be done. If they aren’t done, they will be on my mind, growing & morphing into these huge ugly soul-sucking shapes that make me a zombie.

So, yes I understand when my parents want me to do their things for them. I do. I mean, it is give & take. They have done so much, sacrificed even more to rear us, so why should I even be complaining when I should be helping them? It is just the little things. For instance, my two brothers were watching the TV in the front living room and they left without switching off the fans. My dad shouted for me across the hallway and I hurried over only to hear him ask: Why are the fans on?

Seriously? Is that what you need me for? Was that even necessary? What am I supposed to do? Call my brothers up in person and walk them, while holding their hands, to the front and oversee them as they switch off the fans? Come on! In that same breath you used to call my name, you could have called theirs and make sure they do what they are SUPPOSED to anyway. It really is infuriating.

Other instance I find their breath down my neck highly intolerable is when I am on the roads chauffeuring someone or the other to some tuition class (or the other) and they call my mobile asking me where I am. That’s alright, but it doesn’t end there. My dad has an annoying need to know exactly where I am, meaning which street, if the traffic light is red or green, if I could be home in 5 seconds, etc. Excuse me, why the need to check up on me so thoroughly? I am not a criminal, neither am I a bad kid. I don’t do drugs, NEVER had a boyfriend, never kissed or touched anyone. What else do you want me to do? What else CAN I do to prove to you that I am on track here?!

I realise I lose my temper a lot recently. I feel so stressed out and I feel like there isn’t anytime for me, no space to breathe. As a result, I have gotten irregular, early periods for the last two months. If this continues any longer, with my parents smothering me, I might just get asphyxiated for real.

Since when has being responsible mean I cannot live my life?
Since when does doing something because I want to (like sending the kids, helping my mum run errands around the house) translate into a HAVE TO?

SHEESH!