I`m old school and some stories really make me cringe. I feel I should miss bits out for the sake of embarrassment but it all adds to a more accurate picture and ties in with the utter hypocrisy of the issues they took with me and the selective memory they had when bullying me and bad mouthing me to many.
When she was on an upper she became, giddy, childish and lost all sense of any proper boundaries considering there was a youngster in the house. She would make sexual references at times and then giggle with the naughtiness of it, wanting me to join in.
She would do pretend smoking, puffing at a cigarette just to pose with it and use it as a prop for her on a high persona. She would say "Go on Mand, av a puff, do you want one?" I would have a puff but hated the taste and the smell. She would actively encourage me to try smoking, giggling at how naughty it was, thankfully I never took to it. She saw no double standard in ranting at my Father about his own heavy smoking, the expense of it and how it made her wheeze. She also encouraged me to drink too, pouring me martini one after another and then berating me when I was older and went out to pubs for a drink. Life was a constant roller coaster of ever changing rules, boundaries and what was perceived as acceptable behaviour and so it was like navigating a minefield.
When I got in my teenage years she would at times treat me like the best mate she never had and behave as if we were similar ages. I did not have a `best` mate either. Sad Fact: We should really of been each others best friends, we weren`t.
She would do pretend smoking, puffing at a cigarette just to pose with it and use it as a prop for her on a high persona. She would say "Go on Mand, av a puff, do you want one?" I would have a puff but hated the taste and the smell. She would actively encourage me to try smoking, giggling at how naughty it was, thankfully I never took to it. She saw no double standard in ranting at my Father about his own heavy smoking, the expense of it and how it made her wheeze. She also encouraged me to drink too, pouring me martini one after another and then berating me when I was older and went out to pubs for a drink. Life was a constant roller coaster of ever changing rules, boundaries and what was perceived as acceptable behaviour and so it was like navigating a minefield.
When I got in my teenage years she would at times treat me like the best mate she never had and behave as if we were similar ages. I did not have a `best` mate either. Sad Fact: We should really of been each others best friends, we weren`t.
One time she called me to help her make their double bed. She never did this. She made her own bed {rarely} I made her bed {sometimes} her bed was left unmade {often} She called me laughing and glowing with delight and trying to be fun and playful. Insisting I go around my Fathers side. When I lift the pillow to plump it there is a packet of condoms underneath it. "Oh give those to me right now" she says in fake shock and horror, snatching them up and giggling like a teenager. We finished making the bed with her, all the time, chuckling and making weird little noises of amusement to herself. The whole thing had been so obviously set up so she could let her 14 year old daughter know there had been sexual activity the night before.
I found it embarrassing, cringe worthy, inappropriate and also quite pitiful.
I could of thrown up in my own mouth.
Another time when I was hoovering the hall and she had gone up to the bathroom for a wash, she appeared topless at the top of the stairs and started calling my Father`s name. I carry on hoovering knowing where this was going, I had sadly seen it before. She calls him again and noticing I was not paying any attention she says "Watch this Mand", calling out again he appears and she proceeds to jiggle her breasts at him squealing with delight, he halfheartedly says "look out I`m coming up there" and races up the stairs while she squeals louder at being `chased` and heads to the bathroom, he follows, I carry on hoovering.
I am ashamed that this happened in front of me, perplexed they saw no wrong in it, it somehow taints me with its sordidness and worse still that it was my parents.
I am ashamed I bore witness to that.
I am ashamed I bore witness to that.
Consider then how I was viewed as a slut when at 13 I had dared to have a lad in the house for an hour or so, playing records, talking about music and having a few timid, first kisses.
Oh the hypocrisy.
Then there was the 70`s fashion of wide collars. At our school only the boys wore ties, and so the girls, following fashion would undo 2 or 3 buttons to have their collar as far across their shoulders as possible, the more collar the cooler you were. I of course had my couple of buttons open because I was `trying to entice` boys, there were a few heated rows where my Mother did her best to fuel my Fathers rage by wild predictions of big trouble ahead with this wanton, out of control daughter of theirs. The fact that my bust was only just beginning to show a little shape and all you could see was a bit more neck didn`t seem to register.
The Benny Hill like chases around the house with her naked from the waist up
seemingly forgotten.
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