My Fucking Mother Fucking Smothers

During lunch today, out of the blue, just now, for no goddamn reason, My Fucking Mother decided to be overbearing again.  She noticed ... no, decided that the pajama bottoms I'm wearing -- ones that I've had for years, ones that I think My Fucking Parents gave me -- were too big, and she wanted to hem them.  Like, right away.  All my fucking life she has said to me, "Hey, give me this, give me that, I want to do this, I want to do that," even though I have not asked them to do any goddamn thing.  All I wanted was to retreat back into my room after lunch, but now she wants my pj's.

Fine, she can have them.  I change, go back out to the dining room, and throw the now-bad pajama bottoms on My Fucking Mother's dining room chair.  To which my sister, who saw me throw it, go, "That's not nice!"  And like many times before, I wished I knew the perfect thing to say at the time, because I would have and should have said, "How long have you been a part of this family?"  I didn't say that, of course.  I don't remember what I told my sister, but it was something dumb and forgettable.  Bottom line: I don't mind throwing my pajamas, because My Fucking Mother is fucking smothering me again.