lost memory

I was in the 6th grade, and beginning to bud. I got my  first bra. I was probably one of the first girls to get a bra, and I was my mothers first daughter, so this was a new experience for us both. I honestly do believe my mother was nervouse about telling me the facts of life,well she never did actually, I kinda learned as I went along. anyhow, I was proud to have a bra, it meant I was becoming a woman. I've always be glad I was a girl, a woman. I had always wanted to be a wife, a mother, and of course in time, a grandmother.

One day, I put on my cloths and a button down shirt, it was the early 60's so I really don't remember the sytles of the day, but I do remember what I was wearing. I don't feel it was to "reaveling" but I do remember that my Mother did, but thinking back, if she did, she should have told me, she has that job, to teach me, am I right? I had on a pair of shorts, not to short, just regular shorts, and like I said a button down the front shirt. I had the shirt button almost all the way the tied in a knott in the front so my belly showed. I was in my front  yard, and we were running around playing sort of a tag game with the neighborhood kids. I remember the next door neighbor boy, about my age, grabbed my bra back strap and snapped it and broke it. I was so embarassed, and I went to my mom crying. she yelled at me and said it was my fault.  " Look at how your dressed" she said.  "Your asking for it".  Asking for what? I thought.



So that was my first expierence with a small, embarasing sexual, kind of act. most will say its nothing. to me I wanted to die. I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. and I couldn't even go to my mother, who could I ask to help me? what did I wear that was wrong? what did I do?



then the 8th grade came



it was gym class, by now I had large boosm, not to my knowledge, but I guess looking back, a lot of people were noticing. during my shower, which was mandortory, someone stole my bra. I couldn't call home. who could I tell. I didn't remember why I couldn't call home, Im just putting all this together now. so the rest of the day, there I was bouncing around, everyone staring, laughting at me, and pointing, I was devestated. no one came to my rescue again.



when I was molested by a family friend, which is a long story and I will write about it later, I had no where to go. I've often wondered why I never felt I could go to my mother, but just recently I have remembered the story of the bra thing, and her attitude and how she said it was because of what I wore and how it was my own fault. she said a lot of things were "my own fault". so how could I tell her? how could I ever tell her anything?



more later