Everything's Lame (day... 7?)

Today's post is not quite a cop-out. (where did that phrase even come from?) Since yesterday's ended up being a massive memory dump, mebbe it evens out? Nah. But today... is not the best day, and I almost didn't make it to post anyways; therefore, something > nothing. :]

This one is a memory that keeps coming back to me, and was coming up a few times even before we did the remember yourself blog challenge thingy. It's tied to a larger issue from my youth, and perhaps is something I'll go back on and fill in later this month.

I remember playing with my mom in our old house. I was bouncing on her bed where we slept (I didn't get my own room till... like 8? 10? unsure), and had just seen something to do with scooby-do. Maybe they had let me watch an episode of it; I wouldn't think so though. I didn' get to watch TV till I was nearly a teenager as far as I know. I'm beginning to think my 8-14 memories are really confused timeline-wise. There are probably reasons.

Anyways, we were playing parts, I think I was shaggy and she was scooby. Just random little kid pretend. Suddenly, I stopped jumping. Looking at my mom, I suddenly noticed these protrusions from her chest. I didn't have those. Wtf were they? Why had I only now noticed? I had to know. In my little kid mentality, though, I stayed in character for some reason.

"Scooby, what are those things on your chest?" I asked innocently, pointing at my mother's boobs.

She scowled heavily. I started to ask again, but, if I remember correctly, she pushed down my hand and told me it wasn't nice to ask, or something along those lines. Then, obviously quite angry, she stormed from the room.

I was confused. I didn't know what I had done wrong, or why she had gotten mad and stopped playing with me.

I think I crawled under the bed after that. I would crawl under there and just lay when I was a kid, if I felt afraid or insecure, or to hide from my grandma when she was freaking out about something (which happened often enough).

I never got the answer to that question from them. I had to figure it out on my own.

In fact, I never got any sexuality talk from them. Ever. I was like 14 before I figured out that boys and girls had different parts between their legs, older before I fully realized how sex worked. I had to listen to kids talk in high school and piece it together. I didn't even understand why my parents said it was "evil" to be "gay" till much later because I simply was never informed that there were any differences physically between genders.

Well, I did figure out the boobs part much sooner. But still.

I guess I'm lucky I'm smart. I could have had some bad mishaps from not knowing. The embarrassments that I couldn't avoid were bad enough back then. And why did everyone else seem to know something I didn't?

I guess, looking back, it always felt like such a disservice to a child to not inform them of these things. Who did they think would do it? What did they think would happen? Was that okay, as long as they didn't have to deal with it? And why, the times I brought it up, did my mom just get mad? (note: I never even tried to bring it up to my grandma)

I guess it's no wonder I don't like people. They kinda suck.