I grew up a poor black child…or was that Steve Martin? Whoever it was, they hate these cans.
For the life of me, I can’t imagine what I’d write about myself. My life isn’t really visitor content, and I doubt if I could write a decent paragraph to save my life, but I’m getting off so far off track that I just skewed off into a tangent and created an alternate 1985.
For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Faith. I’m 27 years old and I live in the U.S.A. - in Asscrack, Missouri, to be exact. I’m a mother of zero, and army of one and a pain in the ass.
I was born to a supremely poor, soon-to-be-single mother in Bellingham, Washington and spent the majority of my first decade and a half of life roaming the U.S. as well as other countries of interest ( interest, here having the meaning of affordable ), and getting to know the rate of poverty in each place I’ve lived. Trivia: Did you know that Motel 6 looks the same in California as it does in St. Louis and NYC?
When I was two years old we lived in Orange County, California where my real father, whom I like to refer to as “Captain Dead To Me, Esquire”, left my mother and myself all alone with no money and a little sister on the way. I don’t really want to get into particulars here but we soon-after moved to Washington to live closer to my horrible, wonderful, evil gypsy-ass grandmother. And this is where the fun starts.
While living in Washington, because she’s feeble-minded, my mother met a Mormon man ( already married and in his 70s, by the by ), had an affair with him, got him to divorce his wife and married him. We oh-so-quickly went from being Jewish to Mormon. Fun, eh?
Well, my new stepdad apparently hated children, especially girls of which he already had 10, so Laota and I got the fuzzy end of the lollipop on this one. He was super strict, and I mean strict. We: Had to keep the house spotless. Weren’t allowed to watch TV more than once a week. Weren’t allowed to look up or speak at the dinner table. Were only allowed to bathe once a week on Saturday night so we’d be clean for church. Weren’t allowed to leave the yard. Weren’t allowed to answer the phone or door. Weren’t allowed in the living room, ect. And, to top that off, we got the shit kicked out of us regularly, which was also oodles of joy and sunshine.
Well, New Captain Bastard Hole, as my stepdad will formally be known, also had a mind to move us away. To Utah, of all god forsaken places and then.
More to come as I force myself to write it.
