I’ve got a mum and I am a mum. Which means I am going to be on the giving and receiving end during this Mother’s Day.
This week while I was at the mall (my favourite place on earth….KILL ME NOW) I was saddened at the lack of decent gifts available for purchase and kind of embarrassed to be in the mum category myself, when it’s clear marketers think we are a bunch of old grannies.
WTF is up with all the shit gifts? There was seriously not one good thing worth buying in the entire mall.
Let’s start with the sleeping attire for all that fucking sleep we are not getting.
Nutri Ninja’s half price. Because you’re fat.
There is a brand new album release for those who need some really depressing old Carpenters songs rehashed by Dami Im.
Then I spotted some home massaging devices. Because foot spas are so 1990.
The Reject Shop are onto something with this erotic novel. And judging by the cover, sexy times haven’t changed much since the 1900’s.
Target want you to look like a Peruvian potato farmer. Which is fine fashion for digging up spuds on a mountain top. But I can’t see Peruvian Potato Chic taking off.
Miranda Kerr wants you to buy her Royal Albert tea sets. Like this one for the bargain price of $999. But don’t worry, it’s on special for just $699. She’s definitely the people’s Supermodel that one, always right on target with her endorsements for the everyday woman. Next time you are in Melbourne Miranda, stop by for a nice cup of Dilmah, OK? Bring your own fucking tea set though because all my cups are chipped.
What about these whimsical animal character heat packs and neck warmers? Because all mums are constantly cold and in huge amounts of pain. We need comfort from some sleepy looking woodland friends, dammit.
Or if you haven’t got enough cutesy wootsie you can get a stuffed animal heat pillow. Basically just say goodbye to your dignity forever.
What about a night at the movies? To see some of the worst actors alive and one that should know better, make a shit film with one of the most tragic mum-hair wigs I’ve ever seen.
Or 25% off cookbooks because your food sucks and you should cook more. Like the good old pipe and slipper days. Fuck You.
What about the mums out there that haven’t cut their hair into a sensible bob and don’t want to steam their vaginas? What about us shit cooks that don’t need a fucking book because take-away is so much easier. What about those of us who would rather die than dress like a Peruvian potato farmer? Or those who think it’s a bit sad and pathetic that we supposedly need a cute animal figure on our hot water bottle holder.
What century are we living in here?! Some of these things might get the older ladies off, but if I get given any one of the above I will drive myself off a fucking cliff.
I’ll tell you what mums want. NOTHING. We want a day off from being a mum. Some me time, some time to sit in silence and even do a poo in private. We don’t want anyone yelling at us, or banging down the door when we are trying to shower. We don’t want to wake up in the night for anything and we don’t want to have to cook or clean.
So while it’s all nice and sweet to say “Thank You Mum” with a fucked up dressing gown and an erotic novel on this made up holiday, we know you love us. Make us a cup of coffee in bed and then fuck the hell off for the day.
Next time there is a Hallmark Holiday that you feel obliged to buy something for, consider the Far Kew Emporium. Where the recipient will actually like what you give them.