Remember when your kids’ therapist tried to contact you in order to give you her assessment of their progress, and to come up with a plan of attack for their future? Remember when she wanted you to bring them in, in order to make sure the parental duties were equal? Remember how you never answered because you seem to have lost all fucks that don’t pertain to the circumference of your fat ass?
Remember when you were supposed to send back a bag of kid clothes that we’ve purchased for them, they’ve worn to go back to your house, that you’ve been hoarding, that actually fit and aren’t covered in rips and stains, but instead you sent back too-short-pants and shirts with holes in them, none of which were ours?
Remember how you only started cooking your children breakfast the last couple of days they came to our home, all to impress your new boy crush on social media? Remember how the nights before we picked them up you fed them fast food?
Remember how you posted full body selfies where the walls miraculously morph right into your problem areas? Wow, Magneto’s got nothing on you, girl! Remember how you posted pictures of all your new gym outfits, showing off the cleavage…on your back? Do they sell those sports bras in udders size?
Remember how on March 8th you boasted about being a lazy cunt and then, after a day of social media, you realized you can cash in on the political movement, so you decided to squeeze your lumpy horse stumps into some red compression leggings and posted a picture of your ass? Total feminist.
Remember how you asked your ex husband if you should claim both kids on your taxes this year, because, you know, he can claim our baby so I don’t have to, because you can never have enough money to buy garbage with, and he no longer pays you child support, because you were spending it all on yourself?
Remember how you hid from me last time I dropped off your sick child? I know, I’m terrifying. All of me that can fit into one of your thighs – before the walls help you look skinnier, obvi.
Remember how you fucked up your ex husband’s credit by not paying your mortgage for 150 days?! Yeah, we went to get a home loan today and heard all about your foreclosure stint and the credit card bills you forgot to pay, in his name – you see we don’t ask for handouts from our parents.
Remember how you’re gluten free, but eat the only flavour of Doritos that isn’t, because you’re fucking delusional? Remember how you think that gluten is different in other countries?
Remember how you blocked me from social media, even though I never followed you?
I see you.