Continued from last Tuesday...Before you get the wrong idea let me explain...
My earliest memory’s I have is when I was very young, I'd say two or three years old. It was night and no seat belt laws back then so I was standing next to my mother in the front seat while she was yelling at my father to get in the car and me crying out
“daddy” which then he got in the car.
I remember laying in the back seat at night and watching the street lights whiz by which later on figured out mom was out getting dad from the whatever bar he was at. He later stopped going.
There was non-stop screaming and yelling; doors slamming and windows rattling. It took me forever to not be a 'yeller' learning how to talk things out without violence or screaming.
Being grounded was like a death sentence to me so I became very skilled at hiding the fact that this butterfly was coming out of her cocoon no matter what my poor mother did to smother it. I think because she had gotten pregnant with me, I would have a
'surprise' as she recalled my birth.
Junior High...images are flashing by for I had some very good times despite the fact I was still a loner belonging to no group of kids but trying to fit in. Nothing like I am now that’s for sure!
Having to wear (yes my mother kept on buying my clothing) what she picked out was horribly embarrassing. We would go to Sears and/or J.C. Pennys armed with mother's credit card. For some reason, my father came along and it's he that I went to with my 'clothing issues'.
I would make my argument over whatever I was being forced to wear, he would issue his verdict. I would win. It usually was about wearing outdated stuff which made going to Jr. High I knew you had to change in front of other girls in Physical Education. No way was I going to wear cotton brief panties with little flowers on them! We settled on cotton crouch solid print bikinis.
I am part Irish, Dutch and Cherokee Indian. In the winters I was bone white while sunbathing in the California sunshine I would turn a nice bronze color. I wanted to shave. I had very hairy legs which of course made me feel very self-conscious so I sneaked into my parent's master bathroom borrowing my father's very sharp razor which I had been warned never to touch.
I brought the razor into my bathroom excited, I was going to have beautifully smooth shaved legs. I sure could have used Google back then for at least I knew to lather up my legs first. I start at the top of my foot and draw the razor along the top of my leg to my knee.
You ever cut yourself with a very sharp razor? If you have then you know at first you don't feel anything at all but you know there's something wrong. Next is this awful stinging sensation with blood flowing out of five or six little chunks of shin skin up the length of my poor leg.
I managed to finish shaving only
much more carefully around the little holes in my leg. I got better at shaving after learning the hard way which was mostly the only way I learned about life. I wore pants for a week. Now I know where the phrase
growing up can painfull come from. Junior High wasn't all about embarrassments, I did have two escapes, my love of art and music...
To be continued next Tuesday...What did you like to do in Jr. High?
100 Exquisite Adjectives by Mark Nichol
I love learning new words or being reintroduced to one. I ran across a list of them and will add a word a day.
Word#56 Mendacious: deceptive
In a sentence: I wish I hadn't had to be so
mendacious growing up.
