Oh but you see, I didn’t!!! I swear. I was falsely accused, and I’ve been serving this sentence—doing time—for years. I’ve never peed my pants. (Post partum jump roping just does not count.) There I sat in Coach Tate’s class. The class was mainly sophomores with a few juniors who dreaded the very sight of [...]
My dad nicknamed me “Rosebud!”, and it took me years to learn that that was no term of endearment. Ah, the growing pains of being a girl…even when nothing is growing. When my mother first told me about the training bra, I was five and thought the idea of it was fun—like a new purse [...]
I often found myself rummaging in my grandpa’s barn for tools I could tinker with. I loved taking the wheels off my bicycle just to put them back on again. It just felt productive and bad-A. My grandpa, whom I have always referred to as Ampaw, limited me to the third drawer of his toolbox, [...]
When I was ten my dad put me in the ring with a neighborhood boy, James. He was my age but stood a few pencil marks above me. He couldn’t resist calling me names and pinching that sensitive spot under my arm . I think the teasing is what drove my dad to force us [...]
