29 November 2008

An Ode To Becky

It's always refreshing to discover your own life is quite not as bad as you make out. When I moved to the North Shore from Cowtown I kind of thought my excessively dramatic life would alienate me from my flatmates, my eventual co-workers, and the other students in my class at SRA.

Not so, it seems. I've come to realise I'm really not as insane as I'm cracked up to be. And I'm not a bit disappointed. I'm a little confused as to why being a cyclist means I'm not in touch with my feminine side, however given that this summation of me came from a guy in my class, I'm willing to let it go. He's not one of these, Christian Siriano-type guys either, at which I'm a bit disenchanted. He's a smoker, smells pretty bad, and doesn't really seem interested in makeup. I do wonder what the attraction to makeup school was for him, but whatever. The way he goes around, he won't be picking any girls up, should that have been his motivation for attending. Yuk.

So there's him, and then there's an odd little scrap of a girl who lives in Henderson. Or at least I think that's what she said. She talks with such rapidity that even a question about how her afternoon was leaves her flustered and red in the face. It makes you wonder what stress a 17-year-old girl must be under. Surely girls of that age shouldn't have to worry about having one night stands with 26-year-old heroin addicts, who then propose and proceed to use your money to buy drugs and lunches with friends. But this is what said girl alleges went on with her "ex-fiance", if you can believe it. Most of the others in my class don't. As if that's not enough, she then gets herself into even more of a tizz when she explains that her current "man" (to be honest, he doesn't sound like much of one) often hangs up on her mid-phone conversation, in an attempt to wind her up, because he knows that to her, that's "the epitome of disrespect". What's the point? Seriously, when you're 17, you shouldn't need to deal with people that piss you off. When you're my age, sometimes you have to... right, Ritchie? Obviously I'm kidding, because everyone knows Ritchie is pretty much the only friend I have in Cowtown... but whatever.

You see what I mean? My life is a fucking Caribbean breeze compared to this girl.

Which brings me to my original point, or... person in point, if that even makes sense. I came here to write about Becky, who is a friend of mine from Cowtown (guess Ritchie isn't the only one after all, hey?). In February of this year Becky gave birth to a wee boy who she named Rhys, and from what I understand she is a great mother. This statement is made based on what I hear, and what I see in the pictures she posts of her little friend. Rhys is obviously loved, and looked after, and even if Becky is a 22-year-old single mother, this by no means makes her any less capable of caring for him.

When I see young mums out pushing prams, I usually don't give it a second thought. I'm not a huge fan of babies, so I rarely stop to make faces, or tell the proud mum that he/she is gorgeous (I did have a phase of this, one I grew out of pretty quickly). Even less often, if at all, do I even consider passing judgement at the motives of the mother involved. I try my hardest not to judge people at all, even if they do smell and make unsavoury comments, or tell me far too much information about their ongoing battles with their disrespectful partner. When you are on the run from your own problems, caused entirely by your own mistakes, you don't get to judge.

Imagine my dismay then when I read that Becky experiences judgement from complete strangers on an almost daily basis. I just can't imagine what she could have done to deserve this. She's not only good-looking (when we were at university together, I used to secretly consider her "the hot one" in my group of friends), she is pretty quick-witted, smart, and she can outwrite me any day. You have no idea how much it pains me to admit that either. I think I'm the best writer in the world. You've got to wonder what makes a person so high-and-mighty that they feel it necessary to give disdainful looks to a pretty young lady with a baby. Without sounding too much like I'm jumping on any sort of bandwagon, I really do feel that these bastards are just jealous of Becky.

I used to think that if I was a mother at all, it would be while I was young. My mother had my sister at 33 and me at 35. It's not like we missed out on anything while we were growing up because of any lack of youthful vibrance on her part, but I'd still prefer to be young. Obviously, this theory went out the window when at 19, my boyfriend at the time and I had a fight of disastrous proportions. It ended with me running away from where we were staying, and it took more than six months for us to calm down enough to even talk to one another. Admittedly, this was made more ridiculous by the fact that he lived in Canada while I was in Christchurch, but after that, I abandoned all hope of being married before the age of 20 and becoming a young mum.

As such, I admit to feeling a slight pang of jealousy towards Becky and Rhys. She's not one of those awful single mothers than can barely afford to feed herself, let alone her kid, nor is she one that holds down three part-time jobs and leaves him in daycare the rest of the time, thus defeating the purpose of having a child to begin with. Becky takes amazing care of Rhys, and I think other people don't really like this. That's just how people are - we like to see others fail. The simple fact of the matter is that Becky's not failing, and she looks good while she's succeeding. Everyone else should just fuck off.

From Becky's Facebook note, titled "I Hate Bitches":

"So... my life is a constant battle between my two lives - one where I am a devoted and loving mother to my ten month old baby and the other where I am resident party girl who likes to drunk and get involved in all sorts of tomfoolery...

Last night was an interesting one, which drew me to the conclusion that people just don't like attractive single mothers (if I do say so myself). Being my mum's 50th birthday, I went downtown with child on my arm to a restaurant to have dinner. I admit what I was wearing probably wasn't very 'mother-like' (whatever that is supposed to be).. in a summer dress that perhaps did reveal a little too much cleavage (hard to avoid though, when you have perky mummy boobs).

So I strapped little bubs into his high chair and gave him some toys to amuse himself and sat amongst my family for what was supposed to be an enjoyable occasion. Then about fifteen minutes later a group of girls in their mid-late twenties with bad bleach jobs and over tweezed eyebrows sat opposite us. Now, these girls were not really physically attractive. Two of them were rather overweight and one had a white trash tattoo on one shoulder. Of course I hadn't drawn this conclusion or passed judgement until they decided to target me with their stink eyes and lowered their voices to make comments about me - thinking I couldn't hear or even sense that I was the topic of their conversation. In the midst of my trying to pretend they had not offended me, I knocked over my bottle of beer and made quite the mess on the table. Mopping it up with a napkin I said to my Mum loud enough so they could hear:"Sorry, I was distracted by the bitches who were talking about me."

I really don't get it. It's the same when I am shopping with poor little bubs restrained in his most hated but unfortunately ever so necessary push chair. When I walk into a store where I used to spend all sorts of money before I was a mother, I am immediately cramping the store's style and often watched as though I am about to shoplift. For this reason, I try to ensure I am dressed to almost the highest standard to let them know I am not just some "dumb whore who probably got pregnant to trap a man."

I'm not really one to get too caught up on what people think of me, but sometimes I wish people could reserve their hideous glances and comments until I've turned around or I'm out of hearing range. I try my best to be friendly to people and even if I'm having a crap day I can work a smile for a stranger. So instead of immediately drawing the conclusion that I must be a loser because I'm a single mother- think of how blessed I am to have such an adorable son who fills my life with joy and gives me reasons to get up in the morning! I love my life, and who wouldn't?!

Of course, I'm not sure why I'm sharing this with you peoples, as I know you all love me regardless, but I just needed to rant about how much I hate bitches. Word. (does gangsta gestures)

got an eye problum ow

haha that was supposed to be gangster, not me complaining of a sore eye.."

So you see, not only are Becky's writing skills far superior to my own, she has it pretty tough. She's right though, we love her regardless of what stupid people in the street may think.

What's so funny about peace, love and understanding, anyway?

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