Dungarees, Blood and Punishment

It was all my mother’s fault.

I was thirteen and really, really wanted them!

But she said, “NO, girls don’t wear dungaree’s,

it makes you look like a boy, or a tomboy, which is worse!”


Mom wasn’t going to stop me from going to the Mall with my friends,

I had been on the bus before without her.

So, off I went to buy a pair of Gloria Vanderbilt’s.


It was all my mother’s fault.

I was thirteen and really didn’t understand the retching pain I felt.

But she said, “I was just like you, doubled-over and wishing death,

I just never thought the cramps would come back every month.”


Mom wasn’t kidding, but she didn’t tell me that I’d bleed until I was white

and that the months turned into years,

or that the pains would grow worse


It was all my mother’s fault.

I was thirteen, and getting a dog was all I wanted.

Who knew that Spot would be such a disobedient dog.

She’d yell. “If I have to tell you one more time, dogs don’t eat at the dinner table!”


Mom had no tolerance and I suppose I don”t either, for I found, years later

that I said those same words to my bird, of all things,

and to the subsequent pets that I’ve had since.


Whether it was her obsessions with control over me,

or comiserating with my monthlies, or not…

the one thing that I know for sure… I got Mom’s genes!


I’ll take a pair of those groovy Vanderbilt’s over that!

Thanks Mom!


-dld November 2, 2010

for T10 – It was all my mother’s fault.


2 responses to “Dungarees, Blood and Punishment

  1. Ha…I hate it when I hear my parents words coming out of my mouth…and when I pass a mirror and see memories of my mother’s face…I see I’ve got her genes…not much we can do about such things. 😉

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