I Want A Bag

After 24 years of living, I have come to realize that parents, and mothers especially, have this gift of making their children go into a state of extreme panic and worry with just a simple utterance. My mum is particularly fond of pulling these kind of stunts. And everytime she does it, Harold and me would literally try not to shit in our pants upon hearing to what she has to say.

Yesterday was no exception.

I was updating my Twitter when she came into my room, took my phone away from me and said, "I want a Loewe Amazona."

"What?" I asked, completely caught off guard and confused.

"I want a Loewe Amazona. In Nero," my mum reiterated.

"Why?" I asked, scrunching up my face.

"I don't have any branded bags to carry at my colleague's wedding this Saturday. So I thought now would be a good time to get one," my mum replied calmly.

"You don't have any branded bags? Really?" I asked sarcastically.

"Really," she replied, face deadpan.

"Let's run through your closet and the bags inside together shall we? You have the Mini Luggage from Celine, the Paraty from Chloe, the Sofia from Ferragamo, the Muse 2 from YSL, the Speedy from LV, the D Bag from Tods, the Knot clutch from Bottega, a couple of Guccis and you are telling me that you have no branded bags?" I asked sweetly.

"None from Loewe," she shrugged her shoulders.

At that point of time I could feel my heart racing and I really wanted to shit. I knew what she meant. She didn't even have to verbalize it. The moment she said, "I want a Loewe Amazona", I knew it actually meant, "I want YOU to get for ME a Loewe Amazona".

"You wat me to get for you the Amazona don't you?" I asked, voice slow and steady to mask my increasing panic.

My mum just smiled.

"That bag costs 3000 dollars. I don't have the money," I said through gritted teeth.

"That's what you said the last time and you still bought for me those bags..." she dramatically trailed off.

"This time I really don't have any," I took a stand (a weak one).

"Don't lie Harry. I saw the amount in your bank account from your bank book and you clearly have enough money to bur for me five Amazonas and still go on a three month trip all over Europe and then still have enough cash to buy yourself a car and a Cartier watch," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"You went through my bankbook?!" I raised my voice.

"I raised you up and washed your underwear, I can go through anything of yours without your permission," my mum calmly said.

"How come you never ask Harold?" I asked, frustrated.

"Don't be silly. Harold is still in university. He doesn't have money, he needs it," my mum said.

"This is bullying," I said, shaking my head.

My mum pursed her lips and gave a facial expression that was a mix of mock sympathy and gloat.

I am going to get ready now to go get her Amazona in Nero with gold accents. I plan on telling the staff that I am getting a bag for my professional emotional blackmailing mother.

Oh like she would feel an ounce of remorse. This is my mother we are talking about and it's not her three grand.