Freaky Friday with my Mom

I have the same dream every night: I'm inside Mother. That is, trapped inside her body. But it's not her, not the real one, it never is. I see everything through her eyes, I hear what she thinks of me, but I can't control her. I can only sit back and watch, powerless, as she looks at scrapbooks and cuts Father's head off and places mine on his body. Only this time, something feels weird, heavier. I feel her body. This is no dream. I'm controlling her. Is this real? Have I become Mother? It's me, my mind, in her body. The place I've always wanted to come back to: I'm reclaiming the womb's throne. Where's the mirror? I want to see you the way you see yourself, Mother. Amazing. This body is slower, but wiser. Is this the power you've always had, Mother? The one you never wanted to share. You're still beautiful at your mature age. A few wrinkles, yes, the mark of experience and knowledge. There's still some hypnotic, magnetic pull to your body. I don't have that, Mother. How could you not feel confident in this body? It feels lived-in. I possess you now. What's that sound? A phone call from my number. It must be Mother in my body. I wonder what she thinks of it.

How can I be hungover? I didn't drink last night. Ugh, I feel sticky and bloated and slow. Oh, shit! I'm gonna throw up-- What? I've never puked black before. I gotta clean my face, it feels disgusting-- What!? Am I... in my son's body? What the fuck is this? Honey, honey, are you still here? Is your mind still here, somewhere in your body? If you're here, try moving a finger. I don't think he's here. Honey, you look terrible. You feel terrible, like, weak and sick. Why are you so... so skinny fat? What are you feeding this body? It feels so tired. Why are you... getting excited? There's nothing going on. Oh, no! No, no! Honey, stop that! Maybe if I put it in cold water or something. I know I shouldn't stare, but I never imagined it was so... itsy-bitsy. No! That's a bit underwhelming, though. What happened and why am I here? He texted me last night that he wanted to watch that dumb movie... Freaky Friday! What day is it? Where's your phone? Shit! Friday the 13th. Did we swap bodies like in the movie? Think, how did they swap back? They learned to walk a mile in each other's shoes. That's it: I have to be him to understand where he's coming from. Is he in my body then? God, I hope not! I have to call him.

Mom? Are you enjoying your new flesh? Because I am. What? Of course not, mom. How would I be doing this? Just because I appreciate your body doesn't mean I want to control it. So you did see it! I knew it! What were you doing last night that was so important you couldn't even answer me? It was my birthday yesterday. And what were you doing that was so important? Let's take a look through your phone. Oh, you went out with dad. Here, let's see what kind of pictures you send dad. How seductive, mom, I see you sent him some spicy pictures. So, on my birthday, you decided to lie to me and lie with him. How biblical of you. And he sent you some, too. How romantic. Let's see... What the fuck is that? How can he even walk with something like that? How is there ever blood flowing to his brain? Oh my god, I can't even breathe. I wish I could walk a mile in dad's shoes. Just to know how he balances that thing. Is that why you love him more than you love me? I'm sorry I can't measure up to him. Well, maybe I can. Goodbye Mother. I must castrate Father.

Don't say that, it's off-putting. Did you have anything to do with this? Well, you texted me last night. You wanted to watch that Freaky Friday movie. I think it's weird that something like that would happen right after you said that. Hey, that's not helping, ok? We need to walk a mile in each other's shoes if we want to go back, like in the movie. No! Don't do that, that's private! You're not gonna like what you find-- Turn that cellphone off! I am your mother, and you will do as I say! I'm trying to protect you! Stop! Honey, honey, calm down. Remember what Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis did. We need empathy, we need to walk a mile in each other's shoes. Let's meet somewhere and talk about this. Please! Honey? Wait, what are you going to do?

Oh, Father, Friday the 13th is such an unlucky day. The security guards let me into his office. Just like that, I'm on the elevator making my way up the tower. I'll see you at the tip, I mean, top. There he is. He approaches me. He smells nicer when I'm in this body; he looks taller, stronger, more handsome. Is this the way you see him, Mother? Pathetic idealization. Father sits at his desk. I know what I must do. The worst part is that I feel no rejection. Mother's body tells me to do it, and I can't pretend to stop it. I kneel under the desk. I want to see Father's pride with my own eyes. Oh shit, that gene definitely skipped a generation. I get it, Mother, I do. I'm sorry, but I must do it. Father doesn't see me as I prepare the scissors-- The door opens. It's my body, looking as terrible as ever. She/I looks at me/her. I have such a stupid face when I don't understand things, but is that the puppet's fault, or the puppeteer's? But I don't stop. With a mouthful of vengeance, I prepare for the final blow. Mother raises a pen into my eyes. What are you doing, Mother? You would blind your own son? There's no empathy for a monster.

I feel dumb, clumsy and horny in this body. Fat, horny, and stupid is no way to go through life, son. There it is. Come on, almost there! I walk into the office and I see myself there, kneeling under the desk. I know what my body is doing, what my son is commanding it to do. But I can't bear it. My mind can't. I grab an old fancy fountain pen and aim it at my eyes. His eyes. I will blind us, you crazy fuck. Get away from your father. The words never leave my new crusty mouth. They can't. I aim the pen into my eyes. His eyes. I'm trapped in this decaying body forever. There's no empathy for a monster.