The Exorcism of Mommy Lizzie

***WARNING: CRUDE LANGUAGE


 I wore this ensemble when I brought my bibi boys to the vet earlier. You can imagine how awkward I looked while carrying more than 30 lbs of  snuffly McFluffies from the car park to the clinic, IN HIGH HEELS! In case you're wondering, my babies weigh 15 lbs each. Their sturdy carriers are around 4-6 lbs apiece. Do the math. You see, my arms are strrrong (not to mention sexy)! I once playfully punched my husband in the jaw and he didn't talk to me for days. Now I know why.

 For a psychotic witchbtich who has anger issues woman to show up at an animal clinic dressed like this, one would think she has a ravishing hunky veterinary physician. Let me set the record straight, I only have eyes for my husband: I'm drawn to tall, lanky and pompous brats. Macho-outside-softie-inside kind of guys are so passé.

Anyhow, where was I? Ah yes, dressing up. I didn't do this for my babies' attending vet (although she is a sweetheart and a cutie, I never was into girls. Girls are sickening, catty, manipulative crybabies). I did this because overdressing is a surefire way to avoid getting bullied. I was never tyrannized while looking polished and dressed to the nines. I'm not fond of browbeaters and condescending ogres but I would be deeply disturbed if I inadvertently stick a pen in their eyes. Accidental decapitation is also an option, a dramatic one at that, but careful planning and execution are required.

I had an encounter with one a few days ago. I rushed my boys to their former clinic because they were having difficulties breathing. I was agitated and I didn't even bother making myself look presentable. It was an emergency situation! I can't be expected to thoroughly prettify myself while my boys are gasping for oxygen. I was in my house dress and my hair was a mess. I must have looked like a scruffy emotionally battered housewife. You have to understand that even though they are not humans, they're smarter than most people I have had dealings with I love them with all my heart. If I hear the words "they're just cats" I transform into a vicious, rabid lunatic. I also slobber for added effect.

Inside the (former) clinic, I was anxiously waiting for them to take my boys when an unsmiling veterinary assistant came in.  She slowly and blatantly assessed me from head to toe.
 


assistant: What do you want?  *exact words*

me:*fidgeting* I was the one who called earlier. This seems to be an emergency. They're struggling to breathe. I don't know what to do.

assistant: You need to wait until 11:30!  (I brought my boys in at 9 AM)

me: But... they're really suffering. Just please... please check them.

assistant: *looks me up and down again*  No. You wait until 11:30!!! *raises voice*

me: But I called before I came and I've been told you'd take them in as soon as I get here. *starts to get upset and teary-eyed but still pleading* 

assitant: *shakes head* Why are you panicking?!  *raises voice*  Wait here until 11:30!!!

me: *snaps* You have got to be f*cking kidding me, you disrepectful b*tch!  *cold monotone*

assistant:  Wh---

me: I don't know what your f*cking problem is but I've had enough for today, you f*cking f*ck. *cold monotone*

assistant:  A---

me: Do your f*cking job or I'm going to f*cking strangle you, right here, right now! *cold monotone*

assistant: Please... please calm down, ma'am. *soft voice*

me: Get the f*ck out of my face!

assistant: *runs away*

Story of my life.

dress: Forever 21

necklace: Lifestyle

shoes: Aldo