This Is How I Found Out About My Asian Mom's OnlyFans.
Before all this, I just thought my mom was... different. Not in a bad way. Not even in a weird way. Just different from the other moms.
Most of them wore yoga pants and hoodies, carried giant purses filled with Goldfish crackers and receipts. My mom? She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover--not a PTA meeting. She was thirty-six but didn't look a day over twenty-eight. Japanese-Korean, with that kind of perfect bone structure and porcelain skin you only ever see in K-dramas. Except she wasn't trying to look cute or innocent--she looked sexy. Mini skirts sometimes even accidentally showing her gstring underneath.
Her hair was bleached blonde, straight and shiny, with dark roots she always had touched up every few weeks. It made her stand out even more, like she wanted people to notice--and trust me, they did. When we'd walk through the grocery store, men turned their heads. Both men and women. Some didn't even try to be subtle.
She worked out like it was religion. Every morning after I left for school, I'd hear the whirr of the Peloton or the thud of jump squats in the living room. She didn't just have abs--she had that carved-out line between her hips and stomach that looked like it belonged on a fitness model. Her waist was small, but her chest... wasn't. I never thought much of it before, but now I wonder if she'd bought fake tits.
She wore these tight cropped hoodies and high-waisted leggings that hugged everything. Not baggy stuff. Not mom jeans. The last year or so she'd pick me up from school wearing sunglasses the size of saucers, her lips glossed, her nails always done, and a V-neck top that barely followed the dress code--if moms even had one.
At the time, I just thought she liked looking good. Maybe she had someone new in her life she wasn't telling me about. Good for her I thought she hadn't remarried after my American trucker dad left us. But now, when I look back at those outfits, the perfect makeup even when she was "just at home," the way she always smelled like vanilla and something expensive--it all fits together in a way I didn't want to admit. She didn't dress like that for nothing. But then one day after a test I found out what was going on.
I didn't expect to get punched for doing better on a test. But that's exactly what happened.
It was after third period, out by the bike racks where the security camera doesn't reach. I was holding my math quiz in my hand, still kind of stunned I got a 98--higher than anyone else in class, including Andrew. Yeah, that Andrew. Captain of the football team, blonde, tall, muscular, square jaw, always with a girl on his arm and protein shake in hand. He's the kind of guy who walks down the hall and people step aside like Moses parting the Red Sea. He was the very opposite of me, a nerdy short fat hapa Asian boy who had terrible luck in the gene lottery.
I didn't even look at him. I wasn't trying to show off. But he saw. He saw the score. And he smiled in that way that made my stomach flip.
