Returning from a weekend with my breast cancer grannies, i called Mom down in the Trailer Park. The weekly call – a habit established almost 30 years ago when i left home. We went through the usual laundry list of topics:
daisyfae: How was your week?
Mom: Well, not much going on. On Monday, I ate some leftovers from KFC. DQ and BJ had ordered extra chicken livers… [litany of everything she’s eaten for the entire week follows]
daisyfae: Did you get the results back from the “sleep study” yet?
Mom: They took me back for another sleep over Tuesday night, this time with that mask thing on me. They say I slept for five hours. I sure felt more rested. DQ and BJ tell me that I was in a better mood on Wednesday, too…
And so on… i ask after my siblings, have they called, what’s the latest and all that rot… Eventually, she asked how the kids and i are doing. She asked how work is going… if i’ve had any adventures.
Despite the fact that i’d just returned from a weekend at a lovely regional resort with my elder gal-pals, i just didn’t feel right telling her about it.
Yes. You got it folks. i felt as though i’d been cheating on my mother with two other women.
That, my friends, is supremely fucked up, isn’t it? Turns out, my weekend excursion was – wait for it – a guilt trip.
Trailer Park Refugee 