"Why are those people here?! I don't have it!"
"How do you know that? You've never been checked! I organised this for you so you'd know what you have to watch out for, Mum!"
I believe our lives start, revolve and end around the maternal figure in our lives. They nurture us, love us and guide us through life. However, my mother is no typical mother. I know no other mother who can boast that she was a bong-smoking hippie of the sixties, a roller disco dancing queen of the seventies, a pin-sticking punk of the eighties and a rocking grunge chick of the nineties. She hasn't missed one trend among those that the generation-X have been apart of. But, she's managed to miss being informed about the biggest trend amongst generation-X females of her age: the menopause.
"I've read about those people, sweetie! One sneeze and the floodgates open!" she cried, gesticulating massive doors flying open between her legs.
"Oh my god, Ally," she uttered, ceasing her gestures as a look of dawning thought took over, "Those people are in my living room, sitting on my furniture, sweetie!"
She darted over to the cupboard under the sink, pulling out rolls and rolls of bin bags. With an ample load of plastic in her arms, she frantically dashed into the next room.
"BIN BAGS!" she hollered, "Everyone on a bin bag, NOW!"
Half a dozen faces stared in bewilderedness at the bin bag Nazi before them. Mum shoved masses of bin bags into the arms of the women, urging them to, "Sit-sit-sit-sit-sit!" and then retreated behind me, using me as a shield to the women.
"I'm sorry, Adriana," I said apologetically to the leader, embarrassed beyond the impossible, "She's -"
"I think we should leave," Mum sniveled...