I recently turned sixty one. I think I look really good for my age. That's thanks in part to genetics, but also because if people are busy checking out my hair or how I dress, they won't be able to see inside me.
There are a lot of people who have had harder lives than me, but this is about me.
That's somewhat hypocritical because I'm always saying we live in a "I, Me, My" society. Back to ME.
Something happened to me when I turned fifty. I thought I had decided not to give a shit what people thought of me and not to be afraid anymore.
I did suddenly gain more self confidence and the ability to tell everyone exactly what I thought of them. I became an evil bitch, and for the first time in my life I knew I had a survival skill!
I was born at the end of 1948. Nine months and two weeks after my parents got married.
Like most married couples my parents had babies for no reason at all. They loved each other very much, even though they had only known each other for two months before getting married. Mom was twenty and dad was twenty three.
My mom had been married when she was eighteen. She grew up in the south (boot heel of Missouri) and her family of nine moved to Michigan when she was sixteen for work. Mom was the oldest of seven children and was made to leave school and help support her family. Shortly after moving to Michigan, her parents received a letter from the mother of a boy back in Missouri. Apparently my impetuous young mother had romanticized in letters to this woman's son who had just gotten out of the military, that she would marry him when she returned home. Her father said she must keep her promise of marrying the boy. I believe that decision was mostly based on the fact that the boys family had money. I'm sure they thought she would have a better life.
When in fact, she was married off to an alcoholic sexual sadist.
She survived rapes, beatings and the birth of a son. The baby was a Blue Baby and at that time there was no hope of survival and the infant lived for two months. The asshole husband died shortly thereafter in an auto crash. God does perform miracles. Why does he watch the torture first?
My parents had a long love affair that lasted fifty five years. They died a year apart.
This story is about how I became the fucked up waman I am today.
I plan to continue the saga by posting at least one a week. Or whenever the mood strikes.
There are a lot of people who have had harder lives than me, but this is about me.
That's somewhat hypocritical because I'm always saying we live in a "I, Me, My" society. Back to ME.
Something happened to me when I turned fifty. I thought I had decided not to give a shit what people thought of me and not to be afraid anymore.
I did suddenly gain more self confidence and the ability to tell everyone exactly what I thought of them. I became an evil bitch, and for the first time in my life I knew I had a survival skill!
I was born at the end of 1948. Nine months and two weeks after my parents got married.
Like most married couples my parents had babies for no reason at all. They loved each other very much, even though they had only known each other for two months before getting married. Mom was twenty and dad was twenty three.
My mom had been married when she was eighteen. She grew up in the south (boot heel of Missouri) and her family of nine moved to Michigan when she was sixteen for work. Mom was the oldest of seven children and was made to leave school and help support her family. Shortly after moving to Michigan, her parents received a letter from the mother of a boy back in Missouri. Apparently my impetuous young mother had romanticized in letters to this woman's son who had just gotten out of the military, that she would marry him when she returned home. Her father said she must keep her promise of marrying the boy. I believe that decision was mostly based on the fact that the boys family had money. I'm sure they thought she would have a better life.
When in fact, she was married off to an alcoholic sexual sadist.
She survived rapes, beatings and the birth of a son. The baby was a Blue Baby and at that time there was no hope of survival and the infant lived for two months. The asshole husband died shortly thereafter in an auto crash. God does perform miracles. Why does he watch the torture first?
My parents had a long love affair that lasted fifty five years. They died a year apart.
This story is about how I became the fucked up waman I am today.
I plan to continue the saga by posting at least one a week. Or whenever the mood strikes.
1 comment:
someone should bring that prick back to life so i can kill him again...brother of devine
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