Walk of Shame

I have been having a tough week. Not for any real reason, like my dog died or my family was murdered by clowns, it was mostly just because I’m PMSing and my roommate ate the last brownie that I was looking forward to. Also I had to go to my parents house this week. Blegh.


So, yesterday, my dad thought he’d try to cheer me up by pointing out what a miserable, failure I was. Needless to say, it didn’t really work. He had taken me out on a walk, sort of like a dog, but like, some sort of weird dog that doesn’t like walks, so I guess more like, a cat or a fish...or one of those pet rocks that were really popular in the eighties. And as he berated me, obviously I started to cry because I had already been sobbing on and off for the last few days and one of my sporadic crying sessions just happened to fall in place with one of my dad’s lectures. My dad was somehow confused as to why I was crying, possibly because he had forgotten about the million other times I had burst out in tears in his presence and maybe he doesn’t understand why someone pointing out all of your most tragic flaws might not be a great pick-me up. I actually kind of feel bad for him, because he probably thinks my random emotional outbursts are somehow correlated with him, which they aren’t really, he just happens to be rolling his eyes at a very precarious time in wavering my emotional states. Anyway, while blubbering at his side he starts asking me why I’m miserable.


“Is it because you’re insecure about the way you look?” He asks. I just keep sniffling.

“Is it because you don’t have a boyfriend?” Still, I am silent in my suffering.

“Is it because you don’t like your school?” I refused to answer him, which was probably weird because I love complaining and I talk a lot.


Now, I’m going to let you in on a secret. The real reason why I was crying, and why I didn’t answer my father, was not because of some sort of complex, artistic torment swirling around in my brain. It was because to go on this “father/daughter adventure/sadness walk” my father had to wake me up from my nap. I was very upset when I was woken up and I hate going outside so I started crying and did not stop until the walk was over. Now, let that sink in. I am a 21 year old, mildly self-sufficient college student, who cried for 2 hours because her dad had woken her up from a nap. See, this is why I’m never having kids. Because you raise them, and you think you maybe did a good job but then one of them starts crying because she wanted to nap for four hours instead of three but she won’t tell you that and you go on thinking your kid is some depressed mystery with no direction in life. Which is only half true. Sorry dad. Maybe the other kids will turn out better. Or the dog. You’ve always liked her.