Mama’s Love

One foot in front of the other. Stand up straight, no slouching. Long strides, high knees. Chin slightly down, look straight ahead.

Cameras flashing, cacophony of voices melting into an indiscernible hum.

“Mama, look at me. I did it.”

“Put the chips away. Your ass is too fat,” bellowed s a raspy voice from a porcine body encased in a grease stained house dress.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

Strong beat pulsing through the air, reverberating off my bones. Focus, lean and strike a pose.

“Badass, that’s it.”

“Who the hell do you think you are? Your shit smells the same as mine.”

“Leave me the hell alone!”

I lead with my gaunt hips back up the walk, cutting the air with my sharp angles. My attitude screams I’m a force to be reckoned with.

Whiskey wafts towards me, suddenly spiraling me to a seedy living room birthing an overstuffed couch patched with sweat stains and unrecognizable clumps of food. My mother, slumped down as if lacking a back bone, tracks me with her rheumy eyes.

“Put some damn clothes on. No one wants to see that. You waddle as bad as me.”

Before leaving the stage, with my back to the crowd, I turn my head. I break focus and look at the concourse. I’m hit by an explosion of applause. My head is also exploding, expletives and insanity crowding out the reality of my success.

“Great job. Sexy work. You were hot tonight,” met my easy gait.

No one knows. No one suspects I’m a phony.

With trembling legs, I barely make it to the bathroom. I push open a stall door, drop to my knees and vomit out what little was left in my body. Heaves forcing me to hold the bowl, eyes clamped shut.

“Shut the hell up! You don’t own me anymore!” My words reflecting the wretched posture of my body.

The evening’s silent discourse proved to be too weak for an exorcism tonight. Maybe tomorrow; maybe tomorrow mama will finally stay in her damn grave.