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The Whole Modesty Shit And Blahblahblah...

So I'm sure we all saw this shit happen, and it kinda got me to thinking about my childhood and adult figures in my life.

Now, for the record, my childhood kinda sucked. Abusive, alcoholic, drug-addicted bipolar fathers don't make for a good time. And, ya know, we were poor. Which wasn't too pleasant either.


BUT, the one thing we were NOT was modest. And I mean that in every way possible. Polite, yes, but modest? Nah. My mom (after she kicked papa bear out) and sister would often walk around naked or in underwear. There were no qualms about discussing bodily functions like periods (got mine at 11, knew about it from 7), pooping (best way to tell if you're sick? Look at your poop), vomiting, or anything else like sex, STDs, pregnancy, sexuality, etc. Of course my mom wanted me to dress properly for certain occasions, but she was more concerned with my attempting to wear pajamas out than if I was scantily clad. As a youngin, I had plenty of friends that were boys and my mom would love to joke "ohhh he has a crush on you!" I had my first "boyfriend" at 13 which consisted of us holding hands in the hallway at school and watching a movie with his mom the ONE time I went to his house. My mom knew him, knew we were dating, and let it happen.

I was never taught that virginity was "sacred" or even particularly special. I was never told to wait until marriage to have sex. Hell, I wasn't never told to wait until I was in love to have sex. The whole shtick was "wait until you're ready, whether that's on your wedding night or with a one night stand is up to you. Just be ready, be safe, and never let anyone pressure you into doing something you don't want to do." It was due to this that I had no problem telling any of my high school boyfriends "lolnope" and waited until I was 17 to have sex, and even then still didn't see it as a "big deal."

When I got diagnosed with HPV last year, I called my mom crying about it and through the tears said "I have HPV! I'M A WHORE!" and her response? She laughed and said "oh honey, don't worry. We're all whores in this family. Grandma didn't have 5 kids from not having sex. Stop beating yourself up."

And you know what? I like to think I'm a better person because of all of this. Do I still get insecure about my appearance? Of course I do, who doesn't? But also, I was a chubby kid, and you know who NEVER gave me shit about it? Yeah, Mamadukes. Queen Fluffybutt. Because she just wanted me to be healthy, whether I was thin or heavy. There have been two times in my life she commented on my weight. The first time being when I dropped 30 lbs in 2 months, and the second being when I gained it back in 3 months after a shoulder injury. And it wasn't a "oh you lost/gained too much weight" comment but a "hey, I noticed your weight changed pretty drastically. What's going on Princess?"


Also I should mention that my mom is the most aggressive, confrontational, HBIC I know. Did I mention she's also a Stage 5 cancer survivor? And she taught me to NEVER be afraid to stand up for myself, and never let anyone push me around, least of all a man (she grew up with 4 brothers), and that I can be smart AND pretty, and my hair is pretty when it's curly but it also looks nice straight as long as I'm happy, and I look good without makeup but wow that's a pretty shade of lipstick!, and that if someone isn't listening I need to speak to them, and if that doesn't work I need to yell at them, and to never throw the first punch but don't you dare go down without swinging, and that it doesn't matter what my sexual orientation is just be sure you raise the children Jewish, and oy vey you have tattoos but you're still my daughter so fuck it.

So, here's where I ended up. A tattooed, pierced freak who's graduating college in less than a year. I have a crappy job, but a job nonetheless, I have an amazing, albeit annoying, boyfriend who wants to marry me, a circle of friends I call my family, and a really cute cat. I've never been arrested. I've never done drugs (weed doesn't count). There's no naked pictures of me floating around, as far as I know...


I like to think I'm alright. Annoying? Yeah. Aggressive? Oh HELL yeah. And I'm happy about that.

But then I look at mothers like Mrs. Hall up there, and it makes me wonder. How would I have turned out if she was my mom? If I was shamed for being a woman. If I wasn't allowed to hang out with boys. If I wasn't allowed to be a teenager, and sometimes wear things that may be a bit revealing or dye my hair orange because "modesty." Now, my mom was (and is) strict about some things. Drugs? She'll kill me. When I skipped high school for a month? She wasn't all too happy about that and proceeded to whack me right across the face once before I never missed a day of school again. Drinking? Eh, fine. Just don't puke in the car. And really, Smirnoff vodka? Couldn't do any better than that, kid?


But as far as the stupid shit? A short skirt or a crazy haircut? Life's too short, and she knows it.

So I wonder, does Mrs. Hall want to fuck up her daughter? Do all the mothers commenting on her blog agreeing with her also want their daughters to be destroyed? To be afraid of sex and their bodies, to be afraid of men because they can't control themselves? To think it's their fucking job to "control" men, otherwise they'll...I don't know, spontaneously combust? That he won't buy the cow if he can get the milk for free (side note - yes, he will absolutely "buy the cow" if it's really good milk)? That having sex means you're a waste and a slut? Come on now, people. Why? Why would you want to do that?


As per usual I have no idea what my point is. I mostly felt like talking about Queen Fluffybutt because it's Rosh Hashanah and we had Chinese food today and I love my mommy.

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