I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 31

I started breaking out with acne at an early age. Unfortunately she would pinch the pimples, even when they hurt. I finally learned to do it myself to keep her from doing it. I realize now that was abusive on her part.

When I was about 15 she had me make a special trip downtown to look at a dress that was on sale. It was white with small blue and red flowers and a ruffle on the bottom that had larger versions of the flowers printed on it. I loved the dress, so she bought it for me. When we got home, she asked me if she could try it on. I said “no” and put it away.

When I left the room, she stayed instead of following me out. I went back to my room a few minutes later. I was puzzled to see the door was closed because I remembered leaving it open. As I opened the door, she shut it in my face, but not before I had seen her wearing my dress. I never felt like the dress was “mine” after that. Somewhere in my photo album I have pictures of each of us wearing the dress. I remember looking at the one of her and asking myself, “Why on earth did I allow mother to have her picture taken in my dress?”

Then I remembered that not only had I allowed her to have her picture taken in that dress, I had insisted on it. That’s when I realized why I had insisted she have her picture taken in my dress. It wasn’t really my dress.

There was also my favorite cream-colored blouse that mother borrowed without my permission. Wore it, washed it and wore it again. By the time I went looking for it, it was in her dirty clothes hamper for the second time. If I had done something similar to her, she would have read me the riot act over it. I don’t think she ever apologized to me for this. In fact, she asked me once if I was ever going to let her live that down. Maybe if she apologizes for borrowing the blouse without my knowledge, much less my permission. I suspect it’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens, though.

We once bought matching skirts. They were navy with little flowers printed on them and had a white eyelet ruffle on the bottom. They had buttons down the front with two on the waistband, one set immediately below the waistband and the rest set two inches or so apart. You could leave the skirt unbuttoned from the waist down as there was an eyelet panel in it or you could button it however you wanted to. I wore my skirt to church one day and I had only the top two buttons on the waistband buttoned as I always did. Mother walked up to me while I was talking to someone, reached over and buttoned the next button down in front of the other person.

When I asked her why she’d done that, she told me that it made me looked more like I was dressed. I was so embarrassed and humiliated that I walked as quickly as I could to the ladies room. I cried as I undid the button she had just buttoned up. A sweet lady, who saw me, stopped and asked me what was wrong. I told her what had happened. She reassured me that I looked fine and then prayed for me. She prayed specifically that I would feel no shame because of mother’s actions.

Several years later I wore a short black skirt to church. I was out in the lobby talking to a friend when she walked up and said, “Don’t you think your skirt’s a little short?”

I said, “You can’t see my underwear, can you?”

Once she answered my personal cell phone when it rang, as I happened to be outside. I had it set up to be hands free, but she took it apart so that she could answer. When I said something, she asked me if I expected her to let it ring. I said, “Yes.”

I never did put it back together after that and I lost the earpiece I had chosen. She took something that belonged to me and infringed on it without my knowledge, much less my permission.

During one of my Grandmother Mary’s visits, someone decided it would be a good idea for the family to get together and have a four-generation picture taken. No one asked me if I wanted to do such a thing and if that day was convenient for me. Everyone assumed I would just go along with the program.

Well, in so doing, they took something precious from me. They took my time with Grandma when we were to go shopping together. Mother got to go and chose a garment for me. I never wore the garment because every time I looked at, I resented what it represented. Not that I was truly inclined to wear it anyway as I probably would not have chosen what she did, had I been allowed to go shopping as originally planned. I resented not being able to go shopping with Grandma because someone decided to do a family portrait that day without asking me how I felt about it. IF they’d asked, I wouldn’t have been thrilled about giving up my time with my grandmother, but it wouldn’t have bothered me so much either.

Then my mother had the nerve to tell me only a day or two before hand and expect me to be nice about it. On top of that she tried to lay the blame for lack of notice at Danice’s feet when she also knew well ahead of time about the photo. The only reason I showed up was that I was giving Grandma a ride to the studio. I keep the photo packed away because I can’t look at it without remembering I didn’t get a choice about the picture.

During the session, the photographer asked those of us in the back row to move over one direction. I happened to be next to mother, so when she moved, I did. As I moved towards her, she reached out to grab my sleeve to move me over. I glared at her and she put her hand down.