Soccer Bitches
We had another soccer game under the blazing sun today. My Kid plays soccer with Germantown Soccer Club. Germantown is a suburb of Memphis where all the rich snobby bitches live. (No offense to any G'town readers I might have. But it is true.)
This one mom - Matt's mom - man, can she talk. Not that she ever talks to me. Today, her younger son (the one sitting on the sidelines playing gameboy) had on a Cancun t-shirt. This other mom asked her, "Did you guys go to Cancun?" and Mrs. Matt's Mom talked FOR THE ENTIRE FIRST HALF ABOUT THEIR FAMILY'S CRUISE. I bet Mrs. Kevin's Mom was hating herself for asking. Or maybe not.
See, these Germantown soccer moms don't really seem all that interested in actually watching their kids play soccer. They're all chatting it up in their Juicy sweats (even though it's 85 degrees out) and then here's me, in a sundress and my Jackie-O's, stretching my legs out on the bleacher in front of me so I can catch some rays, and screaming for the kids. All the kids. Mine and theirs, too.
When Mrs. Matt's Mom cheers for the kids, she yells, "Come on, White!" or "Come on, Red!" depending on what color jerseys they're wearing that week. Her husband's the asst. coach and she doesn't even know which kid is mine, let alone what his name is.
Huh. And THEY'RE the ones considered "soccer moms."
