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Writing Tripe Since 2004
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Wednesday, January 04, 2006
All the Good Things and the Bad Things That May Be
Or: My Slightly Before New Year's Resolution
Or: Things You Shouldn't Tell Your Mother

If you have read this blog for any length of time, you've probably gathered that my mother and I have an interesting, some might say co-dependent, relationship. One of the drawbacks of this is that I find myself telling her things that I never planned on telling her, or, more often, things I'd definitively planned on not telling her. Whatever brain-washing she used when I was a young peanut must still be in effect.

Last night, just as I was drifting off to sleep I was thinking about various things. The thought that jolted me out of sleep, that somehow I'd forgotten until just at that point of somnolence, was this:

Yesterday I talked to my mom about sex. And not just any sex. Mine.

Now I don't know what kind of a relationship you have with your mother, so maybe calmly discussing your sex life is the norm. But my mother and I persist in speaking about birth control "regulating my hormones" which it does, but you know what I mean.

Yesterday I told my mom that what I had laid out when I was 18 didn't exactly fit with who I was at 20, or at 25, but how it seemed to be falling into place again at 29. I told her in quite uncouched terms what I had done and what I planned on doing or not doing in the future. I actually said the words "I was already intimate with him." To my mother. Which was as good as admitting we'd gotten to #127 in the Kama Sutra and while my leg later cramped up uncomfortably, we liked it while it was happening.

I told her things she must have already known, and things she certainly never needed to hear spoken aloud.

Through it all she sat in the passenger seat nodding. Probably wishing she was anywhere else, trying to hum something to herself to erase any mental pictures she had of her darling baby girl doing the nasty. And I knew all this, but my mouth kept running. I could have spilled this all to my best friend. Or you bloggers. But no, for some reason I chose my mother. The copious amounts of alcohol that my liver was still trying to process on January 2nd may or may not have had anything to do with that decision.

But I think she liked the ending. Whether she liked it for the same reasons I like it, I'm not sure. But what I told her was this. No more. For me this time, not for you or for my father for or a ring or for a boy. No more until it simplifies things instead of complicating them. No more until I am only and ever. No more pretending that I didn't know what I was doing. Above all, no more pretending that I don't know who I am.

Because I do know. My path was my path, but I am standing at a bend in the road, and I say no more.
posted by LoRi~fLoWer
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