COME GET READY WITH ME (AS I TAKE ON THE MENTAL LOAD) - Allison Bothley
- Allison Bothley
- Mar 23
- 3 min read
Hey mamas!
Grab that lukewarm coffee microwaved enough times to qualify as ritual sacrifice.
And come get ready with me while I perform sentience for the household.
First: hydration. Because women are basically houseplants
with credit cards.
I lock the door and
start my ten-step skincare system: layer school login passwords,
insurance numbers,
smelly sports equipment
and looping questions about which kid hates yogurt this week
and which kid
has made yogurt
his entire personality.
Now tap, Gua-sha, massage in, smooth out
the wrinkles of a society going to shreds,
society held together with retinol,
HA, and a GOOD eye cream,
The only baggage I have room for ancestral.
Don’t forget your sunscreen.
Because the sun is allegedly trying to kill us.
But not here. Have you seen the weather?
“I sure could go for some global warming right about now!”
Yes, fuck the Colorado River going down, down, down downstairs
to grab socks for my kids
because socks
like my marketability
are ever diminishing.
I want to go where the socks go.
Where do the socks go?
Time to fuel almonds,
coffee,
protein shake,
feed the kids,
feed the cat,
Today’s trend is zebra.
Protein enemas are on rollback.
Get wet off Wuthering Heights.
And Timothée Chalamet.
Or….not.
And
I’m on to make up. I blend three shades of foundation until my face reaches legislative neutrality. I am bipartisan in my exhaustion.
Don’t forget to apply a generous dollop
of concealer to the bruise
called anticipation.
the mental load is already packing lunches
the mental load is calcium, iron, fiber, and explaining why some children have bomb drills
and some children
are the bombs.
Now tap tap tap….highlighter on cheekbones.
Spotlight the illusion of effortless glow to camouflage
that the world is flickering.
Curl my lashes
so I don’t miss a moment of women online
teaching sourdough submission
in prairie dresses
while idiots quietly redecorate
my financial and physical autonomy.
Apply two coats of lifting mascara
so I can better observe the ice caps melting,
children dead on the internet,
GLP‑1 whispering: reduce yourself to travel size.
Be easier to distract.
To carry.
To replace.
To ignore children in cages
and name redactions where it matters most.
Pause
the mental load is checking the calendar
Oh no mama
It’s spirit‑day sudoku:
Wacky Hair Wednesday,
Dress Like a Historical Figure Who Challenged Social Norms Friday.
Today I am dressing as every woman who ever Googled
“Is this perimenopause
or am I insane?”
Next: lip liner.
Something bold
to distract from the spread
sheet
running behind my eyes
47 tabs open,
three playing music.
The school is calling
While the news is calling.
While history is calling which kid, fever, diarrhea, cancel meeting, pick up
default parent.
Dab some lip gloss to the center of my mouth so it can be
more flexible when I say “Yes, of course, I can be there in ten minutes. I was already halfway there three weeks ago in my mind.”
I’m ever recalculating:
like Google Maps,
like God,
like a Roomba possessed by maternal dread.
No, I'm not worried!
I'm performing predictive analytics
for chaos.
I’m buying “just a few things”
a few times a week— like wrapping paper that
communicates love in licensed characters.
I’m building consent education into tickle fights,
And installing alt right pipeline antivirus directly
into bedtime stories.
I’m raising future men who
know women are not mythological creatures who
can locate Lego heads by sonar.
I’m project managing household oxygen and
trying to ask for help without sounding like blame
because history has a muzzle that looks
like gratitude.
Next: setting mist.
Lock it all in.
Waterproof.
Smudge‑proof.
Burnout‑resistant.
Final fit check.
That’s right—it has pockets
full of contingency plans,
snacks no one asked for,
and one loose thread I keep pretending
isn’t the whole thing unraveling.
Check the link in my bio.
Okay besties.
That’s the final look.
Super easy,
super natural,
super sustainable
for late-stage everything.
That’s all for today.
Don’t forget to:
like,
subscribe,
submit,
smile,
stay desirable,
stay flexible,
stay grateful,
stay young,
stay quiet,
stay consumable.
Stay.
Stay.
Stay.
And remember to ring the notification bell
so you never miss
another woman
remembering everything
for everyone
while slowly
forgetting
herself.
-------------------------------------------------------
Allison Bothley is a writer and recovering MFA (The New School) who lives in Orangeville, Ontario. Her writing has appeared in The Globe and Mail, The White Wall Review, Sad Girl Diaries, The Literary Review of Canada and others. She is the creator and publisher of Bangs Zine, an independent space hot for big feelings, emerging writers, and lazy Sunday readers.
IG: @allisonbothleywrites
Website: www.allisonbothley.com
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