My mother is a pimp

I wasn’t raised by my biological mother because crack and alcohol became her reason for living and her love for life. I did know my mother but it wasn’t a knowing that would make a child love her. I kept an eye on her because her life made me nervous and her movements kept me curious. It’s hard to find a place in your heart for someone that leases the space out for convenience. My mother went by street names in “The Hood” of downtown California. I guess this was a way for her to cover her true identity when she was caught by police for possession of drugs or being intoxicated on the streets. My mother has always had a sense of street smarts. These smarts aren’t developed in a school but more so from a life of hard knocks, where everything you do is a hustle and isn’t legit. You use what you know and what you have (physically) to get what you want financially or in the payment form of crack. 

This was my mothers life and now she’s almost 60 with the same mindset just minus the crack because that drug is overrated. My mother doesn’t have a regular breakfast, lunch or dinner her days start with shit talking and tequila and ends with shit talking, throwing up over vodka. 

I realized in the past few years that my mother gets a sick thrill when she’s drunk by asking me to send her photos of “me”. I use to think she wanted my photos to show her equally drunk friends (men and women) how beautiful her daughter was since she had no memories of my life stored away since she wasn’t there for me growing up. Well, she only showed my pictures to people she felt would think I was sexy, hot or want to hook up with me. (She doesn’t care that I’m married, by the way) This started to become a routine drunk situation of asking me to send pictures of myself. I would get drunk text or slurred calls from her informing me that Mr. Such and such thought I looked good and would like to buy me a house or a car and even take me out. I would respond with “Yuck” I don’t care “get off the phone”. This happened on the days where she was most drunk, I became the picture auction hoe. 

Recently my mother was suppose to get a temp job and I was super excited that she was going to work somewhere and make a little bit of money. I texted her with full concern of “are you eating?” “How are you feeling?” “Do you have a ride home?” All of these questions because I don’t live in the same state as she does and well she’s old. Yeah, I didn’t get a response. None at all. Was I worried? Heck yeah! I wasn’t sure what could go wrong and if the police did find her how would they find me? And what name did she use? Was she street Susie or street Sarah. I wasn’t sure how to identify her verbally without a name. I couldn’t conduct a dental check for identity, I couldn’t think of the last dental exam she could’ve had plus her last drunk lover knocked out most of her teeth during an altercation. I had to just breathe, my mom is pretty tough for a old head. She can take a few licks to the head so it seems and she has no problem passing out a good ole whooping herself. 

Well the next day bright and early she calls me to say she found an old friend while heading into the job but he told her not to work. He said “don’t work, I got you, I will pay your bills and give you grocery money” he even bought alcohol. Now I’m sure despite how hungry she may have been or even that she was out of toilet paper and wiping her ass with towels, the alcohol was the only thing she cared about. Which explains why me texting all of my concerns didn’t matter because she was drunk. She told me how much fun she had with this man and how she knew him for awhile but thought he was a homeless, penniless bum. Well I guess he must’ve came into some money because my mom said “I prayed for a good man” I said “you prayed” she said “yep” and that guy just so happened to show up that day? I asked. She said “yep, he wants to spend money on me and I’m going to let him” so you don’t like this man but you’re going to spend his money? “Yep” she responded then she informed me I don’t have to like him to get paid. 

Boom! It’s confirmed. She’s not just my virtual pimp. She’s her own pimp. 
Yuck!

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3 thoughts on “My mother is a pimp

  1. This is deep. Thank you for sharing your story. There are a lot of people out there in similar situations that need to know that they are not alone.

    Like

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