When I was little my mom had to take me into the dressing room with her at the mall. I couldn’t be trusted on my own. I broke things, knocked over mannequins. I wasn’t destructive by nature; I was clumsy. My feet were growing at a disturbingly disproportionate rate to the rest of me. I toppled into objects. I hurt myself frequently. My mom had no choice but to bring me with her to try on blouses. I hated it. There were pins all over the carpet. I’d get stuck, bleed, and cry. Mom would bribe me by saying, “If you be good, we’ll go to the toy store after this.”
I’d pout and mope on the ground. Sometimes I’d spot a fellow prisoner under the partition – a little kid trapped with her naked mother. A few of the boys tried to sneak peeks of my topless mom.
Over time, I did the same to theirs. It was fascinating and completely inappropriate. I saw big boobs and long boobs, droopy bellies and jiggly butts. I discovered a world of panties – dirty ones and see-through ones; the kind that grannies wear; others with rips or tiny little hearts.
I no longer cared about the toy store. I started suggesting outfits my mom should try on. I needed to return to the strip club in the back of JCPenny, where I’d take my seat, lean over, and gaze at the delightful nipples. A few women caught me. One smiled. Another shrieked. Mom just shook her head and tried to hurry, often ending up with ill-fitting dresses because her son was a pervert.
But what I supposed to do?
I now wonder if my mom was jealous that I got to do all the peeking?
It also makes me realize how impossible it must be for parents to raise a child while tiptoeing around sexuality. How do you moms and dads do it?
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I just try not to be weird with my kids about it. Neither of my parents really had a sex talk with me. When I got my period, my stepmom said, “Be careful. Now you can get pregnant,” and she told my sister (who was 9 at the time) never to give a man a blow job. Then one day when I was 19 and had already been dating my boyfriend for 2 years (to whom I’m now married) and Monica Lewisnky/Bill Clinton scandal was on the news, my dad said, “So…speaking of all of this, are you and Ryan…you know?” I just sort of walked away from him. My son who is 8 knows exactly how babies are made–we got him a book called “It’s Not the Stork” when he started asking questions. I feel like they will be more uncomfortable as they get older, but so far, they’re pretty comfortable with their bodies (sometimes too comfortable). Plus we aren’t religious, so we avoid that whole guilt trip as well.
This was awesome: “…Monica Lewisnky/Bill Clinton scandal was on the news, my dad said, ‘So…speaking of all of this, are you and Ryan…you know?’” I feel like my dad asked something similar. And yes, your son’s questions will absolutely get more uncomfortable, but it’s better than him not asking at all. I had a friend who was filled with misinformation. Thankfully, my mom took the time to reprogram my brain, and now I know girls CAN get pregnant in a hot tub.