I live in a city that doesn't have the mass transportation New York has, which is problematic when you have no peripheral vision, anxiety issues, and you're just not tall enough to see over the dashboard.
So, my mom has to pick some stuff up for me, like birth control. No big deal, or so I thought until my mom told me that she felt weird picking it up the other day.
Me: Why?
Mom: Well, the guy was younger, like 21, and he asked me if I knew that insurance didn't cover your prescription.
Me: Yeah?
Mom: And I told him that I know. I was about to leave, but then I added that my daughter doesn't do anything that isn't expensive. Then I went home and thought about what I said. . . .
Me: Thanks, Mom.
For making me sound a little like a whore.
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