Tuesday, February 16, 2016

AAAAAAAGHHH!!!

      I am so SICK of guys!
      After four or five hours of sleep, I was rudely awakened by the vacuum cleaner; and kept awake by the persistent shaking on my shoulder and the words, "Guests! Come out and try on a jacket!"
      As if I can't buy my own damn jacket. Then, when it didn't fit, the guy who brought it over just looked at my chest, chuckled and said, "Well, that's because you have boobs."
      Okaaay. First off, that was my mother's boyfriend; who's nearing his seventies. Second off, he is old enough to be my grandfather. And third, he's kinda trying to be my new father. But here's the kicker, my real father and stepfather also enjoyed looking at people's bodies. Whether they were related to them or four-year-olds, or the same gender as them, they loved noticing body parts. And now he's being a Goddamn sexist right out in the open, where we all heard it?
      I bet fifty bucks that if I go out there and complain, Ma will somehow make it seem like it was my fault, or deny it ever happened, or even just laugh and say "That's because he's funny!"
      I want out of here. It's time. Ma can have her delusions, but I am ready to ship out!

9 comments:

  1. I can't blame you for wanting 'out'! That's so rude and embarrassing!

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  2. Meant to say more than that...it's bad enough that you didn't have time to wake up before you were expected to go greet guests and play fashion show :(

    I hate it when people don't listen...

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    1. I knew you'd understand! Thank you!
      Lorne got all the jackets, though, so at least it wasn't wasted money.
      Yesterday, or maybe the day before (one of them, I'm sure), I was dozing on the couch (I'd seen a spider hanging close to the fly smacker and didn't want to risk putting my hand through its web); and suddenly he was pounding on the door. I'd been given no warning; I guess he was just going to walk right on in and see me laying there. I didn't want that, so I sat up and tried to look semi-awake. But they could have given me a heads-up.

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    2. You're welcome!

      ...Honestly, though, EVERYONE should be able to understand that ANYONE should have enough time to get ready, a choice in whether they try on new clothes, and advanced warning so they don't have to see a guest if they don't want to. I know that's not the polite way to treat a guest, but yeesh, if it's my house, I expect the guest to be polite (call ahead, give me time to get ready OR the chance to say 'no') and not expect me to be accommodating just because they think they're special.

      (Sylvia used to be like that; she'd call, we'd ask Mom if she wanted to talk to her, and Sylvia would then say, "Does she have a choice?" as if she planned to force Mom to talk to her somehow. Or she'd come over and try to make you and I do certain chores, or sit further from the TV, stuff like that.)

      I used to hate it when J&B walked in without knocking (or knocking and not waiting, can't remember). I remember thinking that I'd never do that to anyone and locking the door once so they were forced to knock like anyone else. Yeah, they're family, but if they don't live with you, it's polite to knock, and not just so you don't catch someone sleeping or walking around naked or anything. (I know I knocked when we visited, except for that one time Mom or Lorne left the door open a crack and that other awkward night you, Geoff, and I went out and when we came back I was absolutely desperate to use the bathroom, but Mom was sitting outside so I thought it was okay that time).

      Mom and I may have somewhat different ideas about manners...such as, tell your kid you've invited your boyfriend over, especially if she's been on the road all day to come see you and made it clear she doesn't want to see him.

      ...I guess I should "get over" all that, but I can't just turn off my feelings. If I could, I would, it'd make life SO much easier.

      Sorry to hear about the spiders! I've been feeling like something's been crawling on me all night, and I've gotten two bites, so I know it's not just my imagination :(

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    3. With me, Mom would often open the door while she was still knocking, and if I were in the middle of dressing she would close the door most of the way and just stand there looking in; at which point I would yell, or if it were Joe doing that, I'd throw something. (Something soft, don't worry. I was angry, not violent.) But I finally got a lock on my door these days, so when I change, I use it. (That's when Mom gets mad and says, Well, if you're going to actually use it, maybe you shouldn't have it. But it's okay if she talks Lorne into uninstalling it. I'll just put the exercise bike in front of the door when I need a minute or two of privacy.)
      I do remember Sylvia doing all that stuff. I'm glad she doesn't come around anymore.
      As for shutting off your emotions, you can. I've been working on it for ten years and I'm getting pretty good at it. Though not in the way I hoped. Now I just don't feel the urge to laugh at funny things; but I actually get mad very easily. But instead of showing it, I just listen to music or eat chocolate! (They solve so much.)
      One time, Nick opened my door without knocking at all to tell me was leaving, as if I gave a single rat's furry ass. In retrospect I should've said "Good!" and shut the door. Maybe next time.
      Ergh...This one time I woke up incredibly itchy, and pulled up my pant legs. I probably had thirty bites on each leg, plus two on my arm and one on my finger; and three on my opposite shoulder. It was hell. I had a salt bath, put on cream and bug spray, and wore very concealing clothes for about two weeks. Mom and Lorne were horrified to see my skin condition; and we turned the house upside down looking for bugs. It was a nightmare.

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    4. I don't think my bedrooms were ever set up so that looking in at me was so easy, but I do know that, once or twice when she was saying goodnight, her hand would brush something not so appropriate...she said it was an accident, but sometimes I wondered.

      What's the point of having a lock on your door if you're not allowed to use it while you change??

      He had no right to do that...it's just creepy! If that sort of thing is allowed there, I may never be able to live with you guys again; I definitely need my privacy...don't you pay part of the rent and food?? You should be treated as an equal, not some...well, kid would be appropriate, except that if they let some stranger-ish grown man walk in on you, that's not right at all.

      Whoa! When was that? I can't remember Mission being so buggy...but I remember when all those mosquitos attacked you when we lived on the farm! :(

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    5. Oh, wow, I am so sorry for not seeing this sooner...
      And kid might not be the right term at all. Most kids these days have an iPhone, the promise of college and their own car, and are allowed to eat all the junk food they want. Meanwhile I'll be thirty in no time, and it's like a prison here...excluding when they push me out the door and say demeaning sh*t, like Go for a walk! Good girl! Now go fetch this for me and then have a bath. And play nice! as if I'm a damn dog. I understand I'm the youngest, so she has some issues letting go of her last kid, but I'm going insane. And if I try to voice my opinion, she'll probably say No talking back; do as I say! and threaten to kick me out. Once again, going insane.
      I don't want to imply anything...but one time, Mom kissed me on the lips. Granted, I was three or four, so maybe it was harmless, but I still don't like it. I suppose the worst thing that ever happened was when I was going through the family photos, and found pictures of you and me in our bathing suits, at the dinner table. Sounds innocent, but the camera was pointed at our legs, at our chests...But I know Joe had taken the pictures, because they were dark and you could see his fingers.
      As I said, I'll barricade the door with the bike if I must, but I shouldn't have to. If I need to get dressed, and I lock my door to do it, I should have the confidence in knowing I won't get in trouble for it. You know, they always tell me to act my age; but how can I, if they don't treat me like an adult?
      I'm so glad you understand. And I do hope you could at least still live with me, if the situation ever called for it.
      Yeah...mosquitoes love me.

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    6. I'm confused...doesn't she need your share of the money to afford that place? If she thinks you're adult enough to be 'kicked out' can't she see you're old enough to be talked with instead of talked to?

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    7. I guess not. And maybe I'm judging poorly...But they talk down to me every day and make me feel two inches tall. And, because I couldn't function on my own, I let them.
      Sorry I didn't see this sooner. I've clicked Notify me about a hundred times and it never does.

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