4.10.2008

Get your sock on!


Being the junior feminist that I was, I was always striving for equality between my brother and I. If he was allowed to play sports (which entailed lots of time away from home to practice and hang out with friends, pizza parties and trophies) then so should I. Nevermind for the love of sports. If he could ride his bike down the street to the corner market for some candy, then I wanted to go too. A huge bone of contention for me was the fact that he was allowed to spend the night at his friends house. But I couldn't! When I questioned why--and you know I did, relentlessly--my mom would just say, because I said so. That frustrated me to no end. Oh, the injustices of life.

And then the day came when he put up a Cindy Crawford calendar that included a picture of her in a thong. Hmmmmm, really? Apparently this was acceptable to my mother and she didn't say a word about it. Who knows what kind of sick teenage boy activities went on underneath that poor, unsuspecting mole on her upper lip.

Naturally, in my mind this meant I could hang a poster of my beloved Red Hot Chili Peppers without a hassle. The classic socks on cocks poster. I bought it at the Electric Chair. It was good times.

At first she expressed her disgust over the poster. I pointed out the obvious, "You can't even see anything! A sock is covering their weinie!" She very calmly told me that I had to remove it because it was inappropriate. Socks on cocks inappropriate for a sixteen year old girl? But you can't even see anything! Then she told my Nana, who called me a cochina. She lectured me on having posters of naked cochinos on my wall. I rolled my eyes like a teenager is supposed to do. But you can't even see anything! A few days passed. I got a few more warnings. Mom was still calm. Then she laid down the law...if I didn't remove the poster, she would remove it for me. And I took that to mean she wasn't going to take it down and roll it up nice and tight. Then I decided to bring out the big guns.

"Why should I take my poster down if you let Eric keep his up? You haven't even said anything about it! It is a picture of a girl's BUTT! Is that okay? Why is that okay but my poster isn't okay?? Make him take his calendar down, too! It's not fair. You can't even see anything!"

Me protesting from my soapbox didn't make an smidge of difference. It was all in vain. All those women burned their bras for nothin'. Just put me in a chastity belt, too, mom. Or better yet, arrange my marriage. Order me to walk ten paces behind my man. Mom might as well of sentenced me to a lifetime of standing in a hot, sweltering kitchen with ten chil'rens hanging from my chichi's while I roll out dozens after dozens of tortillas.

Okay, so it's six chil'rens not ten but did you get the irony? This is all your fault, Mom! All you had to do was let me bask in the glory of socks on cocks on my bedroom wall.

After so many days of me stubbornly refusing to remove the poster, she marched in and tore it down from the wall. I mean, tore it down. It was in pieces and totally unsalvageable. That really sucked. But it's okay, I'm not bitter. Now that I am a mother, I understand where she was coming from. A little. But there are days like today when I remember. And I will occasionally rail against the injustice committed against me. So unless you want to get me in a bad mood, keep any and all tube socks away out of sight.
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