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From Rockstar To Asshole In 3.5 minutes

By: Kia Tyler

Yes, folks. Beneath Kia’s cool, calm and sweet-geeky exterior apparently beats the heart of an asshole.

Not too long ago, it was New Years Eve…not too long ago, I was at a party…and not too long ago still…there was a girl… a poor, poor girl who sought nothing but my comfort and soothing nature that I’m normally famous for.

Allow me to explain….

I am normally a great listener, tactful and never judgmental. These are qualities I pride myself on because apparently, I was the only one in my family born with these qualities, so as one constantly exposed to the cruelty of simple people who speak their minds, I decided at a very young age to aim a bit higher. I had promised myself to always consider the feelings of the person I was speaking with before I opened my big, fat mouth.

But, one fateful New Year’s Eve, 2009, I failed…failed miserably.

You see, I had just met people, and me, not being a people person, (and being a writer, and as such it’s built into my genes, I’d like to think,) Had been drinking heavily, as many do on New Year’s Eve, and I had been introduced to the sweetest girl I’d met in a long time, who had heard a lot of great things about me, and had thought the world of me long before this fateful night.

This girl was the new girlfriend of an old friend of mine, and was excitedly, yet nervously expecting her first child in less than 3 weeks. She had heard that I was a rock star legend both 9 and 5 years before, and had given birth to two children over these years without uttering so much as a peep of pain, and she was desperate to know how I’d done it.

So I began with the usual… “Yeah, I had a wonderful labor, short, sweet and to the point, two pushes and there was a baby.” ….. “Oh no, no drugs will be needed, just enjoy what the beautiful moment will be to you….” “I’m sure you’ll do great, pregnancy is the hard part, the rest is a breeze, and you’ll have this beautiful little baby to thank for it afterwards, which will absolutely erase any memory of hardship or pain…”

She thanked me, called me a hero, and even hugged me and then walked away, patting her belly and feeling wonderfully sure about herself.

I thought, ‘Yeah, I did that…I’m a rock star.”

Well that was short-lived.

As the night progressed, so did the drinks, but my clarity did not. Before long, I was surrounded by a group of old friend sharing stories of our kids, how cute they were…and the kiss of death…how they were born.

As we all took turns, it came to me. I decided I was amongst friends and cut loose the true horror story of my two pregnancies. The ladies around me stared with awe and surprise, and admiration as they heard about everything I had so cleverly left out before: complications such as toxemia, insomnia, gestational diabetes, and a month spent in the hospital’s premature labor ward…how I’d managed to smile even after my youngest was born 6 weeks early, and I watched him in the NICU as he was under observation and cried because I wished to hold him so badly.

The ladies were in shock and awe and admiration all at once. And once a long moment of silence happened, I knew my story was over.

And oh, was it over. I turned around to find this poor girl I had met earlier no longer thought I was a rock star and a hero. She stared at me wide-eyed, full of fright, and at least 2 shades paler.

I had managed to scare a new mother completely out of her wits, just after I had made her feel like she could take on the world.

Way to go, Kia, I thought. “You managed to go from rockstar to asshole in 3.5 minutes.”

Such is life I guess. We can’t all be rockstars all the time.

Needless to say, she never spoke to me again. I only hope the poor girl forgets all about me in time. Hopefully she remembers the part about the arrival of the beautiful little baby erasing any nightmares of all the trouble it took to bring them into the world.

Or at least, she forgets my name. That at least gives me a chance.

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