I have managed to stall for a few weeks, but I have managed to avoid having to tell them my new occupation. Somehow, I just don't think that'll work. Either they'll think I'm crazy or they're going to take me home and lock me in a room full of pink ballerina tutus and fuzzy purple stuffed bunny rabbits, with cute, harmless, nonviolent little cartoons on the pastel blue kiddie T.V. and lots of frilly, candy-colored dresses in the closet. I decide to break down and call my parents.
Mom picks up first.
Oh, hello, sweetie. Then Dad cuts in on the other phone. I'm fine, dad. Some princess I am. She's obsessed with getting me married to some rich guy and having zillions of children for her and dad to spoil rotten.