"Yes ma'am," you reply. You could ask for a few more minutes to change, but then you'd just mess up your hair again, and you still have to do makeup in the car, and there's still no way you'll have time to eat those poptarts before you get to school and it's not like anybody's gonna see, anyway, so whatevs, just roll with it.
A few minutes later and you're in the car, struggling with your makeup. It's not that mom's a bad driver, it's just... "You know I wish you wouldn't put so much of that stuff on. You're too young to be thinking of boys. I never wore any at your age."
You roll your eyes surreptitiously. "I know mom."
"I should never have let your father talk me into allowing you to join the magic club."
"There's no satanism mom."
"I know. Now. But look what it's lead you to. You're wearing makeup."
"It's just a little lip gloss and eye shadow, mom."
"I can see that. It's why I'm being a cool mom and letting you wear it, even though you're too young for it, and should be eating your pop tarts. I'm not letting you play Prisons and Dragons though! That really does lead to devil worship."
Prisons and dragons?
"I'm letting you do your show," she says, as you pull up to school. "And I'm letting you wear makeup now so you can practice putting it on, just, don't wear any to Sunday school, ok? Promise me?"
She's like, the lamest person ever but you can tell she really does care. And promise or not, she wouldn't let you wear it even if you did try, not that you would to Sunday school. You're not a whore or anything. Easy way to score some points. "I promise mom."
"Thanks Trixie. Have a great and powerful day at school!"
Oh lord. "Thanks mom."
Walking carefully up the steps, to minimize strange sensations, and to make sure your skirt stays as low as it will go, you can't help but notice a shock of red and yellow bacon hair surrounded by boys as usual.
You'd kill for that much attention. But your class isnt that way. What do you do?