Dear Mother, Don't Kill Me

Hey Mom,

Remember when I said we had no secrets. Well that may not be entirely true. I honestly have too long of a list of secrets. It wasn’t always that way but let’s face it, I couldn’t stay the nerdy bookworm forever especially living where we did.

It started in seventh grade when I realized that, no, I was not as beautiful as you said and not everyone is going to be lucky to have me. I could have told you about Peter, the first guy who totally crushed my feelings. However, I didn’t feel like hearing your standard, “They’re just jealous,” and “They don’t know what to do with someone as beautiful as you.” IT was not in fact, any of those things. I was an obvious girl of color going to a predominantly white middle school. I hated that school. Now it wasn’t your fault our poor little apartment complex fell on those city lines.

That school introduced me to Kym. I know you knew she wasn’t a great influence but you were also worried at that time on how to keep food on the table. Food stamps only got us so far and us kids ate a lot. I also think you were worried I might rebel if you forbade that friendship. You were definitely right; I was an asshole as are most middle school age kids.

So here it goes, but please don’t kill me after you read this. I secretly hope you never do. Kym introduced me to high school boys. High school boys seemed to appreciate my curvaceous appearance more than the boys at my school did. Kym also got away with everything.

I would spend every weekend at her house so I then could get away with everything. Including, taking off with her mom’s car in the middle of the night to go to parties in L.A. and Huntington Beach. She got to talk up as many boys as possible and I got to babysit how many drinks each of my friends had. Although I was naively pretending to be a grown up in a preteen body I still understood the dangers in the world. I’m not going to lie, I knew what porn was when I was twelve after watching it with high school boys. I’m really lucky that nothing happened at either event.

I also smoked cigarettes to seem more mature. I’m not going to lie to you either, each of the things I did sounded like such a great idea at the time. But to be sincere, I hated each occurrence. I’m not a drinker. I’m not a smoker. Is it because of the experiences? I don’t know.

Since we are being honest, I will also admit to pretending to spend the night at a friend’s house and for her vide versa. We were thirteen and drinking all night with some boys. That was not a fun experience the day after.

I know I’m lucky and I know what you’re probably going to think. At least I’m thirty and have my own house so you can’t ground me now. Also, yes, I did steal some of you clothes. In my defense, you had some really cute clothes. You were also past the point of frustration when you asked me so in no way was I going to admit to that.

All I know is I am deathly afraid for my children to get older now. If I was that much of an asshole at twelve and thirteen, I am extremely worried. To be fair, I am my mother’s daughter and grandma told me some crazy stories about you and my aunt. I mean I am the result of some said crazy story so…. I love you!

Love your loving and hopefully equally loved daughter, Desiree

P.S. Don’t tell dad!