CeCe

Joined February 2021

0 stories

Bio

I reside in Upstate NY. I am educated as a Paralegal. Writing is my outlet.

FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/CeCeCeCe.1966

Stories (9/0)

Why I Was Skinny Until I Was 30
After recently talking to various people in my life, it would seem that every generation has their own take on lunch time at school. What should be a 30 minute period of relaxation and rejuvenation, is just the opposite for many students, then and now. My mother-in-law shared that she was too worried about her girlish figure to eat lunch at school (sometime around 1960). My wife shared that she was always anxious when checking out at the cashier in the lunch line because her father, the school superintendent, paid in advance for her lunch (early 90's). She worried it would be perceived that she was getting a free lunch. A friend of the family shared a story of one of her students having their lunch thrown away because they had an unpaid lunch tab (2019). She did promptly rectify this situation and the child did eventually get their lunch that day, but the stress that must have caused that child! My sister, who is 16 years my senior, said she would throw her lunch away because she was often sent with tuna and egg salad, and it smelled so bad she would get teased by the other kids. Not being teased was more important than eating lunch.
By CeCe3 years ago in Humans
Mack and Amelia
Mack was buzzed. The loud music and its thumping bass was dizzying as she walked from the bar out to the patio. "I just need some fresh air," she mumbled to herself, as she left behind the three other people that she started out the night with. Once outside she felt like she could exhale and sat down in a vacant corner. It was a relief to feel the late night breeze wash over her drunken body. The sky was black with bright, small stars scattered about. Being as drunk as she was, it was difficult to discern between the natural starlight and the twinkling of the lighted strands hanging around the patio. The loud music had faded but was only replaced by the sound of city traffic.
By CeCe3 years ago in Filthy
Please Don't Call Me Sir
PART V Middle School At around age 13 (a little before I think), it was necessary for my mother to return to NY from Florida because my grandmother was showing signs of advanced dementia and she needed help with her daily living. My mother, being the kind of person she was, returned to help, even though there were three other siblings in the immediate area.
By CeCe3 years ago in Humans
PART IV Please Don't Call Me Sir
PART IV: Magazines in the 70's and early 80's were very powerful media, much like YouTube, Pintrest, and the similar, are today. Our mothers used magazines for dinner recipes, beauty and romance secrets; the kids used them to join teen fan clubs, find posters for their rooms and to seek out what was popular in fashion. My room was full of magazine pages, both male and female teen idols. It was within these pages that kids would develop crushes. They would get some of their first ideas about what they wanted to look like, what they wanted to wear and who and what they wanted to be someday.
By CeCe3 years ago in Humans
Dear Diary
February 10th Dear Diary, have so much to do today. Just looking forward to ending my work day, getting my errands done and getting home to relax. Have to stop by the dry cleaner to pick up my little black dress. It's been nearly a year since I wore that last. I certainly hope it still fits. I have no time left in my schedule to go out dress shopping, and I don’t have the energy for it either. Oh, you won't believe what song I heard on the radio this morning when I was getting ready for work...Elenore Rigby by the Beatles! Haven't heard that in forever! Talk later -
By CeCe3 years ago in Humans
PART III Please Don't Call Me Sir
When the bus pulled into the Florida terminal, I thought I was going to be surrounded by sunny beaches and Disney Land. I saw neither as we exited the bus. It was nearly dark, it was warm but windy, and all I could see was a vast parking lot full of vehicles. We were picked up by my Uncle, who we would be staying with until my mother got a job and found us a place of our own. As a 9 year old who thought I was going to be greeted in Florida by Mickey Mouse, it was nothing less than disappointing to just go from the bus to my uncle's home. The following morning however, my uncle took us to a beach and we found an exciting sea creature, a manawar. My little soul was at peace on that beach, a feeling that the sun, combined with ocean water and warm sand, would bring to me throughout my life.
By CeCe3 years ago in Humans
Please Don't Call Me Sir PART II
I do not have many memories of my early childhood. What I do remember is somewhat sketchy and most of the memories are stories that have been told to me by my family. I do remember that at the age of 5 I did not like like the way my mother dressed me or did my hair. Five year old children do not have much control over their clothing, but I did find a way to have some say over my appearance. When I had some natural separation from my mother by attending school, I realized I could control my hair. I would simply just undo what she had done. Each day when I got seated and situated on the school bus, and when the bus had driven far enough away for me to feel a safe distance from home, the pig tails and barrettes were removed! This was my first act of liberation from something I felt to be unnatural. However, removal was the easy part...trying to get those pig tails back in on the bus ride home was a much different story.
By CeCe3 years ago in Humans
Please Don't Call Me Sir PART I
Transgender, cisgender, pangender, oh my!!! These terms, and more, did not exist in my little world in the 70's. Growing up in small town America had it's benefits for some, but not someone that felt different, thought different, and looked different, as I did. You fell in to one of two categories, girl or boy, male or female. Trying to get out of one of those boxes was not easy. I would dare say in the town I was in at the time, getting out of a box was not even possible. There were terms for the people that didn't fit in one of the boxes in a neat and tidy way. Those terms included old maids, old bachelors who never "took a wife", odd, weird, eccentric (I rather like this one above the rest), fags and dykes. I did not have an understanding of the sexuality associated with the terms. In my pre-teen mind the terms were just adjectives describing one's appearance or how someone chose to live. I knew they were derogatory in nature, but it wouldn't be until much later, after leaving that small town, that I would truly know the meaning and the impact of the words.
By CeCe3 years ago in Humans
Not Just Another Brick In The Wall
It was 7:30am. I was already late to open up my shop when I realized that I had no gas. No gas and no money. I ran back inside and scrubbed the house down for spare change. I went from closet to closet, coat to coat, retrieving pennies, nickels and dimes. I needed to put together at least three dollars for a gallon of gas. I was living hand-to-mouth trying to make my very small business work, sometimes depending on a sale or a tip just to get by until the next day.
By CeCe3 years ago in Futurism