Okay. Here goes.
My mom was an alcoholic who was seldom able to do any cooking. When she did, her cigarette was always dangling out of her mouth as she stirred the pot. The ashes always fell into the pot, which she found amusing. I didn't. One of my jobs was to keep the scotch flowing on chopped ice. She never wore underwear, and when she had her period, blood would drip all over the floor under her. I couldn't stand it, so I wiped it up. She thought that was amusing also.
I was born with a very rare condition, and when I was 16, I was told I would never be able to have children. At a party in our home, full of our friends, my mother, drunk as usual, made the announcement to everyone that, thanks to me, she will never be a grandmother. Incredibly ashamed, I slithered out of the living room and up to my bedroom, hoping no one would notice me.
I could go on and on, but why? It's over. I got myself some education and OUT of the house. And I never went back. I'm a better person for having learned from it.
Bev.
-------------------- <img src="http://home.comcast.net/~letsrow/smily3481.gif">Bevvy
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