I stood in line at the grocery store. I hobbled forward on my crutches reaching out for one of my favorite magazines. I won’t say which one because it might condemn me forever in your eyes. Anyways, as I flipped through the glossy pages yearning for it, I was also playing the pity card to my mom.
“Alright. Finee. Hand it to me,” she said at the check out.
I had won my prize! My guilty pleasure!
The lady in line behind us laughed at me as my joy radiated through Tommy and Sammy’s metal exteriors. Remember them? Yeah, they have really creative names, my crutches, I know.
My mom replied to lady-behind-us, “How can you not? You have to feel bad for her.”
Oh, ok mom. Reverse the pity card.
“If that’s all she wants, hey, it’s not too much,” Lady-Behind-Us said.
Huh. Well, for now it’s not too much.
Maybe next time I’ll ask for gum too.
