.one

On an early Saturday morning in September, my mother eventually decided that I was too ‘boyish’ for my own good. I don’t know how the hell she got that idea, presumably because I barely interacted with girls of the same age, preferred playing basketball than watch a marathon of ANTM, and kept on avoiding everything she talked about fashion and makeup.

But still, it isn’t exactly a basis for her to decide that I’m suddenly a pronounced half-man. I mean, I still take care of my hygiene unlike my caveman of a brother (though it isn’t exactly a reason to retort that I’m not boyish), and I still have the tiniest bit of gracefulness in my body (aside from the occasional slips and falls from our staircase sometimes).

It was always like that since the new school year started. I’d go down a bit groggily after almost falling from the stairs for breakfast, and then after she’d place a plate in front of me—BOOM! Instant dragon mom mode activated. Our conversation usually sounds like this:

Mom: “You need to act more girly.”

Me: “Ugh, mom, no. We are not having this talk again.”

Mom: “Yoonmi, I’m serious. You’re sixteen; you should act like a young lady.”

Me: “But I’m fine! My friends tell me it’s cool!”

Mom: “See, your friends are lying, dear. It is not fine at all. Why don’t you go out with your female friends to the mall, do some shopping, and then act your gender for once?”

Me: “I refuse to associate with such horrifying creatures.”

Mom: “Gender discrimination always starts from this. Now get up, get the hell out of here, and live a life you’ve always wanted.”

Me: “But lying on the couch and eating the whole day is what I want!”

Mom: “Oh please, making that Joonmyeon kid as your boyfriend is what you want.”

That shut me up. Although I always bicker with my mother about how I look like and I manage to make up amazing retorts, she would never fail to add the (might I say, unnecessary) teasing about my non-existent love life, which is basically fangirling and drooling about the hottest student council president on earth—Kim Joonmyeon, aka Suho.

I glare at her silently, inwardly cursing myself for not being able to think of a better retort.

Darn that woman.
I swear I’ll get her someday, I swear.

I could only huff, stuff a piece of toast in my mouth, and bid farewell to her as I leave the house. It had been quite a habit for me to go out after breakfast