![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Coffee this morning and I'm thinking over a conversation I had with my Mother on Thursday evening. Mind you, there's not a lot of love lost between us, on either of our parts, but even less so on mine. I tolerate her, that's about all I can say without sounding really bitchy.
However, that said, she's an undeniable influence in my life and as I grew from little girl to young woman, that influence waned as I realized...she didn't really have it all together when it comes to sex.
Now, I know most of us at age 13 or so, think 'my parents--sex--ICK!!!' I can remember when my parents took the eye-hook latch off the inside of the bedroom door--and it wasn't because we were of an age not to barge in uninvited. Years later I became aware of a few affairs my father had, purely sexual, to which I felt he was fully entitled. My mother had the sexual mores of a repressed Victorian.
She had this ideal time table in her head of when she was going to have to deal with certain issues with me...and I kept disrupting her time table. When I was 12 my boobs went SPROING! (and I mean SPROING it was like one day they weren't there and one day I was a 34 C). So, I needed bras in 6th grade. I wasn't unusual, probably half my class had the same issue to varying degrees. However, I couldn't have a bra, because, in my mother's words "you're not old enough yet."
Fuck age! My body doesn't care that I'm not old enough. My Aunt rode to the rescue, handing down to me several bras that my older cousin, Carol, had outgrown.
I suppose any mother who realizes her daughter has broken into dad's stash of graphic pornographic novels is going to freak out a bit. I'll give her points on that one. However, being convinced that I am a slut just because I read books. Sorry, that doesn't fly with me. Taking me to the doctor when I was 14 because she's convinced herself I'm pregnant only to be told by the doctor that I am still 'intacta' was uncalled for.
Her attempt to tell me about sex went like this: "Sex is one of those things you have to get used to because it's the only way I know of to have kids." End of talk.
I swear, that is verbatim. Off and on over the years I thought maybe she saw that statement as a deterrent for me, but no, I think she was being honest about her own opinion about sex.
My poor dad.
( This part gets a little graphic, warning to the guys... )
Okay...so after that I learned to just shut up and buy my own necessaries for 'that time of the month.'
We went through these battles with surprising regularity all through my teen years. I wanted to wear a v-neck sweater a friend had given me as a birthday present, to the birthday party I was having in my garage. I was seventeen. My mother was enraged because I was wearing a 'low-cut' shirt at a mixed sex birthday party.
"I will NOT have you practicing prostitution in MY HOUSE!" Most conversations with mother devolved into a screaming match those days--this was no different. She tried to smack me, I managed to duck this time and threw a 2 liter bottle of Pepsi at her. I missed, fortunately.
Where am I going with all this? Thursday night and my phone conversation. I'm asking after my father's health and then after hers as well. So, she asks about mine.
"Oh, fine," I say. "I'm still battling with the doctor a bit over my blood pressure and use of hormone based birth control. So now they're talking about having my tubes tied."
"Well you don't still need birth control anyway."
"Sure I do! I have a regular and decent sex life for the first time in my adult life and I'm not compromising that now!"
"You still do that??"
She was stunned. It was all I could do not to laugh in her ear.
"Here," she said. "Talk to your father."
All conversations that make her uncomfortable end the same way: "talk to your father."
I'm 43 years old and she is still uncomfortable discussing sex with her daughter.
My poor dad.
In many ways, my poor mother.
Lucky ol' me.
I'm still not sure exactly how I rose above those attempts to hobble my emerging sexuality. I suppose you can learn from bad examples as well as good examples. And well, I was armed with a great deal of knowledge from all those delicious books that my dad had. I knew that people did enjoy sex for the sake of sex not just for love, nor did they simply endure sex for the sake of procreation....
Somewhere along the way, however, my mother seriously missed the boat on all that. I wonder if that isn't part of the reason she is such a bitter woman?
However, that said, she's an undeniable influence in my life and as I grew from little girl to young woman, that influence waned as I realized...she didn't really have it all together when it comes to sex.
Now, I know most of us at age 13 or so, think 'my parents--sex--ICK!!!' I can remember when my parents took the eye-hook latch off the inside of the bedroom door--and it wasn't because we were of an age not to barge in uninvited. Years later I became aware of a few affairs my father had, purely sexual, to which I felt he was fully entitled. My mother had the sexual mores of a repressed Victorian.
She had this ideal time table in her head of when she was going to have to deal with certain issues with me...and I kept disrupting her time table. When I was 12 my boobs went SPROING! (and I mean SPROING it was like one day they weren't there and one day I was a 34 C). So, I needed bras in 6th grade. I wasn't unusual, probably half my class had the same issue to varying degrees. However, I couldn't have a bra, because, in my mother's words "you're not old enough yet."
Fuck age! My body doesn't care that I'm not old enough. My Aunt rode to the rescue, handing down to me several bras that my older cousin, Carol, had outgrown.
I suppose any mother who realizes her daughter has broken into dad's stash of graphic pornographic novels is going to freak out a bit. I'll give her points on that one. However, being convinced that I am a slut just because I read books. Sorry, that doesn't fly with me. Taking me to the doctor when I was 14 because she's convinced herself I'm pregnant only to be told by the doctor that I am still 'intacta' was uncalled for.
Her attempt to tell me about sex went like this: "Sex is one of those things you have to get used to because it's the only way I know of to have kids." End of talk.
I swear, that is verbatim. Off and on over the years I thought maybe she saw that statement as a deterrent for me, but no, I think she was being honest about her own opinion about sex.
My poor dad.
( This part gets a little graphic, warning to the guys... )
Okay...so after that I learned to just shut up and buy my own necessaries for 'that time of the month.'
We went through these battles with surprising regularity all through my teen years. I wanted to wear a v-neck sweater a friend had given me as a birthday present, to the birthday party I was having in my garage. I was seventeen. My mother was enraged because I was wearing a 'low-cut' shirt at a mixed sex birthday party.
"I will NOT have you practicing prostitution in MY HOUSE!" Most conversations with mother devolved into a screaming match those days--this was no different. She tried to smack me, I managed to duck this time and threw a 2 liter bottle of Pepsi at her. I missed, fortunately.
Where am I going with all this? Thursday night and my phone conversation. I'm asking after my father's health and then after hers as well. So, she asks about mine.
"Oh, fine," I say. "I'm still battling with the doctor a bit over my blood pressure and use of hormone based birth control. So now they're talking about having my tubes tied."
"Well you don't still need birth control anyway."
"Sure I do! I have a regular and decent sex life for the first time in my adult life and I'm not compromising that now!"
"You still do that??"
She was stunned. It was all I could do not to laugh in her ear.
"Here," she said. "Talk to your father."
All conversations that make her uncomfortable end the same way: "talk to your father."
I'm 43 years old and she is still uncomfortable discussing sex with her daughter.
My poor dad.
In many ways, my poor mother.
Lucky ol' me.
I'm still not sure exactly how I rose above those attempts to hobble my emerging sexuality. I suppose you can learn from bad examples as well as good examples. And well, I was armed with a great deal of knowledge from all those delicious books that my dad had. I knew that people did enjoy sex for the sake of sex not just for love, nor did they simply endure sex for the sake of procreation....
Somewhere along the way, however, my mother seriously missed the boat on all that. I wonder if that isn't part of the reason she is such a bitter woman?
