Monday, November 24, 2014

Trust them? Or not?

When I was 14, I started experimenting with boys and by experimenting I mean  kissing and over the shirt action. I don't know what these boys were rooting for because I didn't get boobs till I bought them at 34.
So, it was about this time that I let some stupid boy give me a gigantic hickey on my neck. I am talking a gargantuan hickey that looked like I got beat up. I knew that my mother was going to go nuts on me so I told her this humongous lie about crashing my bike and getting the handlebars in my neck. She believed me, and to this day, I just think she gave up and said "Whatever."

This weekend I came home and found my oldest child with two big-ass hickeys on his neck. Now, I can't stop staring at them like it is some kind of neon danger sign telling me that my kid is moving around in dangerous territory.
funny gifs
The difference is, that my kid didn't even tell me some whacked story about getting beat up -- he just said, "So."
Excuse me? How am I supposed to work with that? He is wearing these nasty ass bruises like a badge of honor. 
I guess I need to chill and stop staring at them and just try to explain that they are disgusting and that they make me want to slap him upside his fat, pubescent, hormonal head every time I look at them, or just buy him a really big scarf till he passes this phase. 
Puberty will be the death of me.


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