bath. Why this did not occur to me I’ll never know. Instead I responded “Mom, no one is here, it’s a warm day, and no one can see me. So who cares if I run around the house with nothing on?”
“Are you sure nothing is going on?” as she looked me in the eyes.
“Sure Mom. Nothing is wrong,” was my response to her . I felt as though I were saying “I dunno” all over again just as I had done the first time I was caught stealing.
Now I had added a huge lie to the black book of Cindi Sins. The pervert not only was a stealer, but also a liar. It hurt. But it also got me off the hook. Mom picked up her keys or purse or whatever it was that she had come back for. I suppose that she thought that it would be all right if I ran around the house with nothing but my shorts on. Perhaps she thought that it was a sure clue that I would not be having a party.
At fourteen, I quit stealing. I had discovered that I could push the embarrassment aside for brief moments while I shopped and purchased clothing for myself. B efore long, I learned that with long hair, I could actually pass as female. During the seventies, men’s and women’s clothing were colorful, blasted with streaks of flowers, and platform shoes were in style. And best of all, it was cool to have long hair … a nd I knew that I had beautiful hair much to the consternation of my Father. He told me constantly, in a derogatory way that I looked like a girl. Although the comment was mean spirited, I loved it. I loved you daddy for telling me. I received similar comments from my hairdressers . They always told me that I “ should be a girl with hair like this”. Yes, thank you very much. I knew more than they could ever comprehend.
I purchased a beautiful girl’s button up blouse with strips of peach flowers. I had a matching pair of velvet peach colored hip huggers. I also purchased a pair of girl’s white bell bottoms. Oh, how I treasured these things. I did not need to hide them. They hung proudly in my closet. I thought this would slow the Squirrel down, that it would find some peace. No. The Squirrel kept running, showing even more ways to move one step ahead with my desires, find new sins to commit, and ever solidify my pervert status.
Many times I went out in my favorite clothes; I was sometimes treated as a girl. I loved it. No…. no more stealing. Now I could get what I wanted with money. Money was easy to earn. I collected pop bottles, did chores around the house, and took every chance to make a few dollars to buy my clothes. I wore my blouses and girl’s bell bottoms for two yea rs with no one being the wiser. I wore them to school, to church functions, and everywhere else. It made me very happy to wear the things that I wanted and to come off as a girl when I wanted. But it did not stop the Squirrel . And my ability to pass would not last long. I knew that I would mature as I aged and that masculine features would soon conquer my face and voice .
I would not let my mother touch my girl clothes. I did not want her to ruin them in hot water or throw them into the dryer. I religiously washed my girl bell bottoms myself in cold water. I would carefully iron them every time I would wear them. I knew that Mom wondered why I was so careful with these, my precious things. Many times she offered to wash them. I would not let her touch them. I can only wonder what went through her mind.
I finally relinquished the better part of my stolen stash. I had been keeping it all. I still had Lace’s white socks and shoes that had not fit for years. I could no longer manage the risk of hiding these things. It was amazing just how much I had. I filled three large paper grocery sacks and waited until I could hear the garbage truck come, early one morning. Right before it came to my house, I slipped out with my treasures. I carefully squished them into the cans already placed in position. And just as I finished, the colossal rancorous dragon lumbered to the
“Are you sure nothing is going on?” as she looked me in the eyes.
“Sure Mom. Nothing is wrong,” was my response to her . I felt as though I were saying “I dunno” all over again just as I had done the first time I was caught stealing.
Now I had added a huge lie to the black book of Cindi Sins. The pervert not only was a stealer, but also a liar. It hurt. But it also got me off the hook. Mom picked up her keys or purse or whatever it was that she had come back for. I suppose that she thought that it would be all right if I ran around the house with nothing but my shorts on. Perhaps she thought that it was a sure clue that I would not be having a party.
At fourteen, I quit stealing. I had discovered that I could push the embarrassment aside for brief moments while I shopped and purchased clothing for myself. B efore long, I learned that with long hair, I could actually pass as female. During the seventies, men’s and women’s clothing were colorful, blasted with streaks of flowers, and platform shoes were in style. And best of all, it was cool to have long hair … a nd I knew that I had beautiful hair much to the consternation of my Father. He told me constantly, in a derogatory way that I looked like a girl. Although the comment was mean spirited, I loved it. I loved you daddy for telling me. I received similar comments from my hairdressers . They always told me that I “ should be a girl with hair like this”. Yes, thank you very much. I knew more than they could ever comprehend.
I purchased a beautiful girl’s button up blouse with strips of peach flowers. I had a matching pair of velvet peach colored hip huggers. I also purchased a pair of girl’s white bell bottoms. Oh, how I treasured these things. I did not need to hide them. They hung proudly in my closet. I thought this would slow the Squirrel down, that it would find some peace. No. The Squirrel kept running, showing even more ways to move one step ahead with my desires, find new sins to commit, and ever solidify my pervert status.
Many times I went out in my favorite clothes; I was sometimes treated as a girl. I loved it. No…. no more stealing. Now I could get what I wanted with money. Money was easy to earn. I collected pop bottles, did chores around the house, and took every chance to make a few dollars to buy my clothes. I wore my blouses and girl’s bell bottoms for two yea rs with no one being the wiser. I wore them to school, to church functions, and everywhere else. It made me very happy to wear the things that I wanted and to come off as a girl when I wanted. But it did not stop the Squirrel . And my ability to pass would not last long. I knew that I would mature as I aged and that masculine features would soon conquer my face and voice .
I would not let my mother touch my girl clothes. I did not want her to ruin them in hot water or throw them into the dryer. I religiously washed my girl bell bottoms myself in cold water. I would carefully iron them every time I would wear them. I knew that Mom wondered why I was so careful with these, my precious things. Many times she offered to wash them. I would not let her touch them. I can only wonder what went through her mind.
I finally relinquished the better part of my stolen stash. I had been keeping it all. I still had Lace’s white socks and shoes that had not fit for years. I could no longer manage the risk of hiding these things. It was amazing just how much I had. I filled three large paper grocery sacks and waited until I could hear the garbage truck come, early one morning. Right before it came to my house, I slipped out with my treasures. I carefully squished them into the cans already placed in position. And just as I finished, the colossal rancorous dragon lumbered to the
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