*** This is from a weekday morning in October but remained in my journal till past its date and is now included here. ***
I was in my bathroom patting on makeup when Jessy came in, on the excuse of looking for some thing or another out of my cupboard. ''Hey,' she said, leaning past me and swiped up the eyeliner.
'You need to get your own of that stuff,' I said.
'When do I ever go out?' She stopped behind me in the doorway and seemed to watch me go on. I certainly wasn't watching what she was doing and for a short moment believed she had gone out. Then she asked, 'How was your night?'
I shrugged. 'How is any night?' This is how we tease each other, turning questions back on each other. It's half in fun and half to practise what Daddy calls 'practical sarcasm'.
'I don't know....' She seemed unsure of what to say next. 'Did I hear your bed moving last night?'
My first reaction, which I wish I had not had, was to blush. 'Did you?'
And of course she saw my blush. 'Janine....' She giggled. 'Was it really that--?'
'Oh, like I'm going to tell you that!' I turned and waved her away like a bug. 'You've never--?'
'Oh, all the time,' she said simply. 'But I didn't know your bed squeaked that much. You must have been--'
'GO,' I said strongly, and she giggled more and went out. I turned back to the mirror but by now was so red that I'd have to wait to apply more stuff. The bed is pretty strong-- nearly brand-new from the custom woodworking shop and though it's made traditionally, with joints that are not glued so they can come apart for the thing to be moved, I have a regular box-spring and mattress on the ropes. I always thought it was pretty solid and quiet. I can only imagine what Jessy was doing up at about 2.30 in the morning when I was solving a very pressing problem in the sanctuary of my own bed.
Should I now start sleeping with the gallery door closed? And what would be the point? We've never hid from each other the fact that we both do it. We've each even done it in front of the other before. It's natural and normal. I guess I just don't care for being evaluated on the intensity of my--
Oh, I'd better not finish that thought!
...
04 December 2008
Sharing the bed
*** This was from a Friday in October but remained in my journal past its date and is now included here. ***
I can never sleep much more than six hours in a night without waking up with a headache. Fortunately my body knows this and I will wake up before the headache comes on. I usually get the headache only if I've been sick and unable to get up automatically, or if I choose to roll over and go back to sleep when I know I shouldn't, which has happened more often than I care to admit.
Last night I went to bed too early, partly due to eye strain as I have been reading this book about a guy who sailed round the world (a true story) whenever I am not doing something school-related or with the family. I managed to shuffle in to the bathroom and brush my teeth and then I got out of everything and got into bed properly. It has been chilly most nights, but last night there was an ominous-looking fog and it stayed warm, so that my fire was almost unnecessary. I just happen to like how it smells, making the room seem cosy.
There was thunder in the night, an odd thing this time of year. Somewhere out over the ocean a front was rolling in. Once I turned over in bed and pulled the covers up round my back. I was not cold but felt insecure. Another time I rolled back the other way and came face-to-face with another pair of eyes.
'Janine,' she said in an urgent whisper.
My eyes opened wide. Little Lisa (five) in her old-fashioned flannel nightdress hovered uneasily at the edge of my bed, half shivering either from cold or the fear of the storm. Thunder rolled out on the ocean and she quaked on her feet. At once I parted the comforter, blanket and sheet away from the side of the bed and she scampered in.
I know most big sisters would not do this. I was naked-- which is always weird when you have to have someone else under the same covers, although I have done it before with each of my sisters. But little Lisa looks up to me, almost like a second mother, and it is flattering for her to ask me to shelter her from whatever scares her. It's as though God is calling, 'Janine! You have work to do.' The other thing is that Mother and Daddy's door is about 45 feet down the gallery and across the mezzanine from Lisa's door and that's a long way to walk in the dark when you're five and scared. It is an easy thing for me to admit her into my bed. And the other thing is that she is warm, a soft, fuzzy flannel lump to snuggle up behind.
I shifted backwards, to give her one of the pillows, and closed the covers over her. Lisa settled right down, for a moment tensing again as more thunder rumbled, and I wrapped my arm over her and pulled us closer together. She sighed. She would be safe and sound now.
Lisa usually gets up before either Jessy or I-- most little kids do. But I had had that extra sleep too early at night and awoke the moment she stirred. For a few moments we denied to let the other know we were awake, and then she rolled onto her back and stared up at the muslin canopy of my bed. Then, almost as though she could not believe where she was, she turned and looked at me, with our faces about six inches apart. 'Hi,' she said.
I smiled at her. 'Did you sleep all right?'
She nodded eagerly. 'Did you?' I nodded too, like she had, and she smiled again. 'Is Mother going to make waffles?'
It was Saturday. I felt like I'd slept three nights together. 'I don't know,' I said. 'Want to check?'
She nodded like that again and started to sit up. I peeled the covers back about halfway and let her out of the bed. She put her feet down and then stopped, like she had thought of something else, and then turned round and leaned way in to kiss my head. 'I'm sorry I came into your bed,' she said.
I smiled at her. 'It's all right. I'm sorry you didn't like the thunder.'
She shrugged, like that embarrassed her. Then she said what she'd really wanted to say. 'You're a good big sister.'
'Awww.... And you're a terrific little sister.' Then I squirmed over to that side of the bed and we hugged. 'I love you, sweetie.'
'I love you too, sweetie.' We both giggled at that. She has never called me 'sweetie' before-- Mother calls all of us that but Jessy and I tend to reserve that for Lisa or each other.
'Now go down and find out if there are waffles. I think I will put something on first.'
Lisa giggled again. 'Aren't you chilly?'
I snatched back all the covers and pulled them up to my neck, dramatically. 'Not any more.'
She giggled again, wholeheartedly, and then scurried out to the bathroom in the gallery.
...
I can never sleep much more than six hours in a night without waking up with a headache. Fortunately my body knows this and I will wake up before the headache comes on. I usually get the headache only if I've been sick and unable to get up automatically, or if I choose to roll over and go back to sleep when I know I shouldn't, which has happened more often than I care to admit.
Last night I went to bed too early, partly due to eye strain as I have been reading this book about a guy who sailed round the world (a true story) whenever I am not doing something school-related or with the family. I managed to shuffle in to the bathroom and brush my teeth and then I got out of everything and got into bed properly. It has been chilly most nights, but last night there was an ominous-looking fog and it stayed warm, so that my fire was almost unnecessary. I just happen to like how it smells, making the room seem cosy.
There was thunder in the night, an odd thing this time of year. Somewhere out over the ocean a front was rolling in. Once I turned over in bed and pulled the covers up round my back. I was not cold but felt insecure. Another time I rolled back the other way and came face-to-face with another pair of eyes.
'Janine,' she said in an urgent whisper.
My eyes opened wide. Little Lisa (five) in her old-fashioned flannel nightdress hovered uneasily at the edge of my bed, half shivering either from cold or the fear of the storm. Thunder rolled out on the ocean and she quaked on her feet. At once I parted the comforter, blanket and sheet away from the side of the bed and she scampered in.
I know most big sisters would not do this. I was naked-- which is always weird when you have to have someone else under the same covers, although I have done it before with each of my sisters. But little Lisa looks up to me, almost like a second mother, and it is flattering for her to ask me to shelter her from whatever scares her. It's as though God is calling, 'Janine! You have work to do.' The other thing is that Mother and Daddy's door is about 45 feet down the gallery and across the mezzanine from Lisa's door and that's a long way to walk in the dark when you're five and scared. It is an easy thing for me to admit her into my bed. And the other thing is that she is warm, a soft, fuzzy flannel lump to snuggle up behind.
I shifted backwards, to give her one of the pillows, and closed the covers over her. Lisa settled right down, for a moment tensing again as more thunder rumbled, and I wrapped my arm over her and pulled us closer together. She sighed. She would be safe and sound now.
Lisa usually gets up before either Jessy or I-- most little kids do. But I had had that extra sleep too early at night and awoke the moment she stirred. For a few moments we denied to let the other know we were awake, and then she rolled onto her back and stared up at the muslin canopy of my bed. Then, almost as though she could not believe where she was, she turned and looked at me, with our faces about six inches apart. 'Hi,' she said.
I smiled at her. 'Did you sleep all right?'
She nodded eagerly. 'Did you?' I nodded too, like she had, and she smiled again. 'Is Mother going to make waffles?'
It was Saturday. I felt like I'd slept three nights together. 'I don't know,' I said. 'Want to check?'
She nodded like that again and started to sit up. I peeled the covers back about halfway and let her out of the bed. She put her feet down and then stopped, like she had thought of something else, and then turned round and leaned way in to kiss my head. 'I'm sorry I came into your bed,' she said.
I smiled at her. 'It's all right. I'm sorry you didn't like the thunder.'
She shrugged, like that embarrassed her. Then she said what she'd really wanted to say. 'You're a good big sister.'
'Awww.... And you're a terrific little sister.' Then I squirmed over to that side of the bed and we hugged. 'I love you, sweetie.'
'I love you too, sweetie.' We both giggled at that. She has never called me 'sweetie' before-- Mother calls all of us that but Jessy and I tend to reserve that for Lisa or each other.
'Now go down and find out if there are waffles. I think I will put something on first.'
Lisa giggled again. 'Aren't you chilly?'
I snatched back all the covers and pulled them up to my neck, dramatically. 'Not any more.'
She giggled again, wholeheartedly, and then scurried out to the bathroom in the gallery.
...
Daddy over dinner
*** This is from October but remained in my journal till past its date and is now included here. ***
My Daddy has the silliest sense of humour in the world. He is not really cynical or disrespectful, but he has the kind of wit that can see something funny in almost everything, even the most serious situations. One of his favourite things is to mock road signs along the side of the road. The other day he came home saying he has seen a sign up on Route 13 somewhere: FREE HORSE MANURE.
Naturally we all laughed at that-- over dinner, even little Lisa after she was told what horse manure was-- by Mother of course, who then tried to come up with perfectly sensible reasons why anyone on the Eastern Shore might actually WANT 'horse poopies', as Lisa called it. Little J.J. got it immediately and actually asked how they collect it. 'Do they put a diaper on the horse?' he asked.
We all went on laughing as Daddy went off on just about every possible application of it--
- 'Free? Free? Do you mean the guy down the block is charging a dollar a pound?
- 'Well of course it should be free. Set it free! Freedom for all horse manure!
- 'Do you think I need MORE of it? I get horse manure just walking outside! I'm constantly getting it from everyone all day!
- 'And what would be the procedure here? You would go up to the door, and ask him, "Hello, you're giving away horse manure? Can I have about seventy pounds, please?" And would he shovel it for you, or would you have to shovel your own? And do you have to bring your own shovel? What would people say if they saw the shovel in the back of your car? "Oh, that's just for the horse manure."'
- 'What if a cop stopped you on the way home? "What's that you've got there?" "Oh, this truck is just full of horse manure."'
- 'And when you got home, what would you say? "Honey, I'm home! And I've got the horse manure! Where do you want it?"'
Needless to say we were all giggling like idiots... except Mother of course who tried to giggle intelligently while pretending to disapprove of the topic at the table.
This is not out of the ordinary for Daddy at all. On any trip, or when he comes home from having been on the road somewhere, he will comment on nonsensical road signs along the way. Some of his favourites are:
Sign: FIRE HOUSE
Daddy: 'Yes, absolutely, fire him. House is the worst town councilman we've ever had!'
Sign: SLOW CHILDREN
Daddy: 'That's not fair, making fun of them like that. They can't help having a learning disability.'
Sign: WATCH CHILDREN
Daddy: 'Do they do tricks?'
Sign: DEAF CHILD IN AREA
Daddy: 'Why is that there? He won't hear us if we honk.'
Sign: CHURCH
Daddy: 'What is that, a suggestion for travellers who are bored of every other topic of conversation? -"Well, what do you think of church?" -"Well, I suppose it serves a necessary function in society...."'
Sign: ROAD MAY BE SLIPPERY
Daddy: 'Well is it, or not? That sign gives no information.'
Sign: BRIDGE FREEZES BEFORE ROAD SURFACE
Daddy: 'Was that a contest? Subtitle: ROAD SURFACE VOWS TO TRY HARDER NEXT SEASON.'
Sign: MEN WORKING
Daddy: 'Why is it always only ONE man, and the rest just standing around with Thermos bottles? It should say "MAN working".'
And his all-time favourite:
Sign: WORKERS IN TREES
Daddy: 'Let me get this straight. Grown adults, climbing in trees like little kids, and getting paid. I think I want that job.'
...
My Daddy has the silliest sense of humour in the world. He is not really cynical or disrespectful, but he has the kind of wit that can see something funny in almost everything, even the most serious situations. One of his favourite things is to mock road signs along the side of the road. The other day he came home saying he has seen a sign up on Route 13 somewhere: FREE HORSE MANURE.
Naturally we all laughed at that-- over dinner, even little Lisa after she was told what horse manure was-- by Mother of course, who then tried to come up with perfectly sensible reasons why anyone on the Eastern Shore might actually WANT 'horse poopies', as Lisa called it. Little J.J. got it immediately and actually asked how they collect it. 'Do they put a diaper on the horse?' he asked.
We all went on laughing as Daddy went off on just about every possible application of it--
- 'Free? Free? Do you mean the guy down the block is charging a dollar a pound?
- 'Well of course it should be free. Set it free! Freedom for all horse manure!
- 'Do you think I need MORE of it? I get horse manure just walking outside! I'm constantly getting it from everyone all day!
- 'And what would be the procedure here? You would go up to the door, and ask him, "Hello, you're giving away horse manure? Can I have about seventy pounds, please?" And would he shovel it for you, or would you have to shovel your own? And do you have to bring your own shovel? What would people say if they saw the shovel in the back of your car? "Oh, that's just for the horse manure."'
- 'What if a cop stopped you on the way home? "What's that you've got there?" "Oh, this truck is just full of horse manure."'
- 'And when you got home, what would you say? "Honey, I'm home! And I've got the horse manure! Where do you want it?"'
Needless to say we were all giggling like idiots... except Mother of course who tried to giggle intelligently while pretending to disapprove of the topic at the table.
This is not out of the ordinary for Daddy at all. On any trip, or when he comes home from having been on the road somewhere, he will comment on nonsensical road signs along the way. Some of his favourites are:
Sign: FIRE HOUSE
Daddy: 'Yes, absolutely, fire him. House is the worst town councilman we've ever had!'
Sign: SLOW CHILDREN
Daddy: 'That's not fair, making fun of them like that. They can't help having a learning disability.'
Sign: WATCH CHILDREN
Daddy: 'Do they do tricks?'
Sign: DEAF CHILD IN AREA
Daddy: 'Why is that there? He won't hear us if we honk.'
Sign: CHURCH
Daddy: 'What is that, a suggestion for travellers who are bored of every other topic of conversation? -"Well, what do you think of church?" -"Well, I suppose it serves a necessary function in society...."'
Sign: ROAD MAY BE SLIPPERY
Daddy: 'Well is it, or not? That sign gives no information.'
Sign: BRIDGE FREEZES BEFORE ROAD SURFACE
Daddy: 'Was that a contest? Subtitle: ROAD SURFACE VOWS TO TRY HARDER NEXT SEASON.'
Sign: MEN WORKING
Daddy: 'Why is it always only ONE man, and the rest just standing around with Thermos bottles? It should say "MAN working".'
And his all-time favourite:
Sign: WORKERS IN TREES
Daddy: 'Let me get this straight. Grown adults, climbing in trees like little kids, and getting paid. I think I want that job.'
...
15 November 2008
Conversation
Tonight, Saturday 15 November 2008
People on AOL really drive me crazy sometimes. I have been hosting the 'Naked YF At Home' chat room for a while now, at least since it was summer and the 'Home Nudist' room was usually full, mostly of non-nudists who come in trolling for pics of our naughty bits. The 'Naked YF At Home' room was started as an overflow place, hopefully for girls about my age who do as I do and want a safe place to chat about it where there is an active bolt-holder who will boot out the naughty people. However after all this time I have concluded that there are no girls about my age who like lying outside or lolling about the house naked and like to chat about it, and that there are really only men who like to fantasise about seeing, and probably doing a lot more than seeing, a girl about my age doing that.
One of the questions the men seem compelled to ask me is what the male members of my family think of this. They tend to assume that my male family members 'like' to see me, usually hinting not so subtly that my being naked round the house inevitably arouses my father and brother in a sexual way. I then explain that my brother is 2-1/2 and really doesn't care what we look like, clothed or not (the exception is in my blog, 7 October). And I explain that my father now has three daughters and certainly knows the difference between the relationship he has with each of us and the one he has with his beautiful young, very legally married wife.
Nevertheless the men online all claim that I am lying or living in denial or else that Daddy is 'less than' a 'real man' because he doesn't find naked teenaged girls attractive. I always say that no 'real man', no Christian, and no GOOD parent would have any even remotely sexual attraction towards his own child. That's just sick, and I tell the men online who assume it is true that it's just them assuming that because they think weird sick stuff like that is sexy, or else because they would be guilty of it themselves and they don't want to feel like the only one who might be wrong. It's what my father calls the 'Hilary Clinton school of morality' --to blame the other party for what you yourself are guilty of-- but that's another issue altogether.
One guy online this afternoon, however, put it to me like this: 'I bet if you sat on your father's lap you'd find out.' This comment got me very distressed. I didn't like thinking about it in any way and yet I couldn't seem to forget about it. Finally tonight, after supper, for which I put on my robe (and socks of course), I ascended the steps to Daddy's little office in the third floor of our tower and knocked on the open door.
(I am of course not sure I have all my dad's words right, but I went over this and it's as close as I remember.)
'Hey,' he said, looking up from the computer screen.
'Hey,' I said, closing the robe round myself, and sat on the edge of the sofa there.
'This is just email,' he said, and leaving it on the screen he turned in the chair to face me. 'What's up?'
I shrugged, looking out the window at the black sky. It had gone dark more quickly because of the front coming in. It'll be raining in a few hours. 'I kind of had something to ask, but I'm not sure about it now.'
He nodded, leaning back in the chair and looking at the window too. 'Well, you don't have to feel uncomfortable asking me anything, but if you do, then don't ask me till you're not so uncomfortable about it.'
I shook my head and then bravely faced him. 'Do you mind it that Jessy and I are like this so much?'
He smiled. 'Like you were this afternoon, and, yesterday? No.'
I shook my head again. That wasn't the question I'd really wanted the answer to. 'Does it....' No, I couldn't ask it that way either. 'Do you like seeing us like that?'
Daddy smiled more, and then looked down, sort of at my knees in the robe. 'Well, I do,' he said, 'but I'm not sure it's how you think I do. Or, how you are afraid I do.'
I made half a smile then. 'What does that mean?'
He looked up then, not quite at me, and rocked a little in the chair. 'All men like to look at pretty girls. All men like to see naked girls. But there are two ways of looking at them.'
I was listening. 'Okay....'
'Some men are easily excited by anything that reminds them of sex, even if it's totally inappropriate. Like these guys will catch a glimpse of their own daughter in the shower, and then they turn away and go, "Oh, man, I want to look but I can't!" And they turn away in a second, like it hurts them to see her in there.'
I laughed. 'But you've seen us like that, even in the shower, and you always turn away too.'
'Of course I do, but it's not because I'm afraid to look at you.' He smiled. 'It's because I'm teaching you that that's what a gentleman would do, any gentleman, not just your father. It's form of showing you respect.'
I nodded. 'I know,' I said. 'You always show us respect.'
'You're my child,' he said. 'Would I not respect you?'
I smiled. 'No, you always would.'
'I would. But I would respect anyone's daughter if I inadvertently saw her naked in the shower or something like that. I would just think, that's some good man's daughter in there; if I have any respect at all for women, or for men and fathers, I don't treat her like a sex object. She doesn't belong to me, and there's no agreement about it.... It would just be a cowardly kind of Peeping-Tom thing to take advantage of the opportunity to see some poor girl like that against her will. Even a husband.... Would you marry a guy who stood there ogling you in the shower?'
'Ew, no.'
'Well, then, see? But you know this. A gentleman never imposes on a lady. I mean it's hardly noble.'
'No,' I said. 'It's not. It's like the opposite of noble.'
'And it goes both ways. If you choose to be naked in front of me, because you trust me and respect me, I have to show you the same level of trust and respect back. It's not about me and what I want. It's about what you feel comfortable with. And if that's what you feel comfortable with in front of me, I'm just going to respect you for showing how much you trust me. Does that make sense?'
I nodded. 'Yes, of course. I mean, it's not like we think you would treat us any differently like that, because we're still your daughters.'
'Well, yes. And you do know me, Janine. I have always treated all your friends the same as I treat you, with the same kind of respect. I mean we laugh and joke around a lot, but really the fact is still that I'm still a gentleman and you are still ladies, and there is always a line to be drawn; but believe me, Janine, it's not because you and your friends are potential... I don't know, "conquests" for me, but precisely because you are not.'
I nodded. 'I know,' I said, feeling much better about this whole topic now.
'I mean, you know, I can't watch porn. I can't watch it at all.'
'Daddy--!' I giggled-- and blushed.
'I mean, I have seen some of it, not so much watched it, really--' he saw me looking wryly at him-- 'other people's bachelor parties, when I was younger-- okay, Uncle Rick's-- and it always makes me think that that poor girl there is some guy's daughter, who used to have her school pictures taped on the refrigerator and brought home cardboard cutouts of the Easter Bunny and had a beautiful new dress for Confirmation and curls in her hair and dimples in her smile. How could I ever think of someone like that as a sex object?'
I smiled, but I had tears in my eyes from that. 'I know what you mean,' I said.
'And I know people talk about your stepmother,' he said, 'being so young and beautiful and all, and that I must be some kind of perverted old fool. But I swear to you, her age had nothing to do with it at all-- I might have married her if she were ten or twenty years older than she is, because I married her because she's such a good teammate and so unselfish and so positive of a person, and that's what I needed seven years ago and that's what I want for the rest of my life. And the fact that she was committed to staying a virgin until marriage didn't make me want to rush things at all, not how people said, but it did make me value her like nothing else in the world. It takes a special kind of woman to commit to something like that, and that's something that she and I have always tried to impress upon you, and your sister, you know.'
'I know, Daddy. You know how I feel about that.'
'I just hope you will keep to it.'
I nodded. 'I promise I will.'
He sighed. 'And so, in answer to your question, I do like seeing you and your sister's bare bottoms out there--' I laughed then, still blushing-- 'because you represent to me two happy girls, good girls, who aren't afraid of anything, especially not their own family. There isn't anything sexual or inappropriate about it, not to me. I know what naked girls look like. I've seen a couple of them myself, you know.' He smiled a little.
I know there were probably more than two, more than Mommy and our stepmother, because of what I have heard. No matter how hard a parent tries, if he is well-known enough someone will have said something about him that he wouldn't want his kids to hear someday. (At least Daddy is no Billy Ray Cyrus!)
'It's just that I would be a bad parent indeed, Janine, if you DIDN'T feel comfortable lying out there like that. It's your way of showing you trust me, and this family; and I always draw myself up to anyone's trust in me. It's just what I feel is right. It's noble, it's respectful, it's gentlemanly, it's Christian. What kind of father can't be trusted by his own child to accept her as she is, unconditionally?'
'Yes. I know, Daddy.'
He smiled at me. 'Besides, you know, you and Jessy are just so cute--!'
I laughed and pretended to swing at him.
...
People on AOL really drive me crazy sometimes. I have been hosting the 'Naked YF At Home' chat room for a while now, at least since it was summer and the 'Home Nudist' room was usually full, mostly of non-nudists who come in trolling for pics of our naughty bits. The 'Naked YF At Home' room was started as an overflow place, hopefully for girls about my age who do as I do and want a safe place to chat about it where there is an active bolt-holder who will boot out the naughty people. However after all this time I have concluded that there are no girls about my age who like lying outside or lolling about the house naked and like to chat about it, and that there are really only men who like to fantasise about seeing, and probably doing a lot more than seeing, a girl about my age doing that.
One of the questions the men seem compelled to ask me is what the male members of my family think of this. They tend to assume that my male family members 'like' to see me, usually hinting not so subtly that my being naked round the house inevitably arouses my father and brother in a sexual way. I then explain that my brother is 2-1/2 and really doesn't care what we look like, clothed or not (the exception is in my blog, 7 October). And I explain that my father now has three daughters and certainly knows the difference between the relationship he has with each of us and the one he has with his beautiful young, very legally married wife.
Nevertheless the men online all claim that I am lying or living in denial or else that Daddy is 'less than' a 'real man' because he doesn't find naked teenaged girls attractive. I always say that no 'real man', no Christian, and no GOOD parent would have any even remotely sexual attraction towards his own child. That's just sick, and I tell the men online who assume it is true that it's just them assuming that because they think weird sick stuff like that is sexy, or else because they would be guilty of it themselves and they don't want to feel like the only one who might be wrong. It's what my father calls the 'Hilary Clinton school of morality' --to blame the other party for what you yourself are guilty of-- but that's another issue altogether.
One guy online this afternoon, however, put it to me like this: 'I bet if you sat on your father's lap you'd find out.' This comment got me very distressed. I didn't like thinking about it in any way and yet I couldn't seem to forget about it. Finally tonight, after supper, for which I put on my robe (and socks of course), I ascended the steps to Daddy's little office in the third floor of our tower and knocked on the open door.
(I am of course not sure I have all my dad's words right, but I went over this and it's as close as I remember.)
'Hey,' he said, looking up from the computer screen.
'Hey,' I said, closing the robe round myself, and sat on the edge of the sofa there.
'This is just email,' he said, and leaving it on the screen he turned in the chair to face me. 'What's up?'
I shrugged, looking out the window at the black sky. It had gone dark more quickly because of the front coming in. It'll be raining in a few hours. 'I kind of had something to ask, but I'm not sure about it now.'
He nodded, leaning back in the chair and looking at the window too. 'Well, you don't have to feel uncomfortable asking me anything, but if you do, then don't ask me till you're not so uncomfortable about it.'
I shook my head and then bravely faced him. 'Do you mind it that Jessy and I are like this so much?'
He smiled. 'Like you were this afternoon, and, yesterday? No.'
I shook my head again. That wasn't the question I'd really wanted the answer to. 'Does it....' No, I couldn't ask it that way either. 'Do you like seeing us like that?'
Daddy smiled more, and then looked down, sort of at my knees in the robe. 'Well, I do,' he said, 'but I'm not sure it's how you think I do. Or, how you are afraid I do.'
I made half a smile then. 'What does that mean?'
He looked up then, not quite at me, and rocked a little in the chair. 'All men like to look at pretty girls. All men like to see naked girls. But there are two ways of looking at them.'
I was listening. 'Okay....'
'Some men are easily excited by anything that reminds them of sex, even if it's totally inappropriate. Like these guys will catch a glimpse of their own daughter in the shower, and then they turn away and go, "Oh, man, I want to look but I can't!" And they turn away in a second, like it hurts them to see her in there.'
I laughed. 'But you've seen us like that, even in the shower, and you always turn away too.'
'Of course I do, but it's not because I'm afraid to look at you.' He smiled. 'It's because I'm teaching you that that's what a gentleman would do, any gentleman, not just your father. It's form of showing you respect.'
I nodded. 'I know,' I said. 'You always show us respect.'
'You're my child,' he said. 'Would I not respect you?'
I smiled. 'No, you always would.'
'I would. But I would respect anyone's daughter if I inadvertently saw her naked in the shower or something like that. I would just think, that's some good man's daughter in there; if I have any respect at all for women, or for men and fathers, I don't treat her like a sex object. She doesn't belong to me, and there's no agreement about it.... It would just be a cowardly kind of Peeping-Tom thing to take advantage of the opportunity to see some poor girl like that against her will. Even a husband.... Would you marry a guy who stood there ogling you in the shower?'
'Ew, no.'
'Well, then, see? But you know this. A gentleman never imposes on a lady. I mean it's hardly noble.'
'No,' I said. 'It's not. It's like the opposite of noble.'
'And it goes both ways. If you choose to be naked in front of me, because you trust me and respect me, I have to show you the same level of trust and respect back. It's not about me and what I want. It's about what you feel comfortable with. And if that's what you feel comfortable with in front of me, I'm just going to respect you for showing how much you trust me. Does that make sense?'
I nodded. 'Yes, of course. I mean, it's not like we think you would treat us any differently like that, because we're still your daughters.'
'Well, yes. And you do know me, Janine. I have always treated all your friends the same as I treat you, with the same kind of respect. I mean we laugh and joke around a lot, but really the fact is still that I'm still a gentleman and you are still ladies, and there is always a line to be drawn; but believe me, Janine, it's not because you and your friends are potential... I don't know, "conquests" for me, but precisely because you are not.'
I nodded. 'I know,' I said, feeling much better about this whole topic now.
'I mean, you know, I can't watch porn. I can't watch it at all.'
'Daddy--!' I giggled-- and blushed.
'I mean, I have seen some of it, not so much watched it, really--' he saw me looking wryly at him-- 'other people's bachelor parties, when I was younger-- okay, Uncle Rick's-- and it always makes me think that that poor girl there is some guy's daughter, who used to have her school pictures taped on the refrigerator and brought home cardboard cutouts of the Easter Bunny and had a beautiful new dress for Confirmation and curls in her hair and dimples in her smile. How could I ever think of someone like that as a sex object?'
I smiled, but I had tears in my eyes from that. 'I know what you mean,' I said.
'And I know people talk about your stepmother,' he said, 'being so young and beautiful and all, and that I must be some kind of perverted old fool. But I swear to you, her age had nothing to do with it at all-- I might have married her if she were ten or twenty years older than she is, because I married her because she's such a good teammate and so unselfish and so positive of a person, and that's what I needed seven years ago and that's what I want for the rest of my life. And the fact that she was committed to staying a virgin until marriage didn't make me want to rush things at all, not how people said, but it did make me value her like nothing else in the world. It takes a special kind of woman to commit to something like that, and that's something that she and I have always tried to impress upon you, and your sister, you know.'
'I know, Daddy. You know how I feel about that.'
'I just hope you will keep to it.'
I nodded. 'I promise I will.'
He sighed. 'And so, in answer to your question, I do like seeing you and your sister's bare bottoms out there--' I laughed then, still blushing-- 'because you represent to me two happy girls, good girls, who aren't afraid of anything, especially not their own family. There isn't anything sexual or inappropriate about it, not to me. I know what naked girls look like. I've seen a couple of them myself, you know.' He smiled a little.
I know there were probably more than two, more than Mommy and our stepmother, because of what I have heard. No matter how hard a parent tries, if he is well-known enough someone will have said something about him that he wouldn't want his kids to hear someday. (At least Daddy is no Billy Ray Cyrus!)
'It's just that I would be a bad parent indeed, Janine, if you DIDN'T feel comfortable lying out there like that. It's your way of showing you trust me, and this family; and I always draw myself up to anyone's trust in me. It's just what I feel is right. It's noble, it's respectful, it's gentlemanly, it's Christian. What kind of father can't be trusted by his own child to accept her as she is, unconditionally?'
'Yes. I know, Daddy.'
He smiled at me. 'Besides, you know, you and Jessy are just so cute--!'
I laughed and pretended to swing at him.
...
Conversation (August)
The problem with this blog is that it's all keyed by date, so if I neglect to type up something in time and enter another blog text first, the earlier entry will get shuffled in the calendar. This is a conversation that happened in late August, less than a month after we came to this house and the whole nudity thing was still new for Jessy and me, and in light of some recent AOL chat topics I have decided to (finish it first and) include it now.
Something had been on my mind for a while and I needed to ask Mother (my stepmother, who is only 10 years older than I am) about it. The text is from my journal at the time which was not online yet.
Tuesday 19 August 2008
Jessy and I have been lying out beside the pool for about three weeks now, but I was not naked this evening when I went in to the kitchen for a glass of iced tea. I was, however, not totally dressed at all-- I was in plain pink panties and a black t-shirt.
Mother was in there finishing up her kitchen things and I offered to help, so I picked up a damp cloth and began wiping down the counters. 'Did you two have a pleasant afternoon, today?' she asked. 'I saw you two out there looking like pampered princesses.'
I laughed. 'I'm sorry, Mother. Do you mind that we do that?'
'No, no, of course not,' she said. 'You're exploring yourselves. That's your right as girls.'
I know what she meant, and it isn't anything risque at all, you know, just the idea of two sisters who have discovered the innocent pleasure of lying naked under the warm summer sun. But it did make me think of something else. 'Mother? Can I ask you something? I really don't know how to say this, but....'
She smiled and looked at me. 'You may always ask me anything. I might not know the answer, but....'
'Do you think it's a sin to masturbate?'
Of course no one would expect that question! The poor lady really thought about it and then managed to say, 'Well, what do you think?'
I thought too. 'I don't know what to think,' I said. 'The Bible says Osiris sinned by spilling seed on the ground. But that's not the same for girls... women. We're not wasting anything that's needed.'
Mother nodded, thinking seriously about that. 'That's a good point,' she said.
'But it's also the sin of pride,' I said.
Mother nodded at once, knowing exactly what I meant. 'Yes,' she said, 'it is.'
'It's pride,' I said, 'because God has put me in a state of life, a situation, where sexual gratification isn't called for. And I defy God if I say that doesn't matter, like if I come up with a way to get around what He wants for me. It isn't much different than premarital sex.'
She looked at me. 'Well, it isn't, but there is still a difference.'
I shrugged. 'Maybe....'
'In premarital sex you sin with someone. You both take advantage of this way of getting around what He wants for you, and, what's worse, you take undue risks upon yourself. Besides if you felt that strongly about each other, if you were that much in love, He has already provided a way for you to take. Right?'
I nodded. 'Yes.'
'And, of course, if you really don't feel that strongly about each other, it's only lust, and lust is a sin.'
'Yes,' I said.
She leaned in the corner of the kitchen, folded her arms across her tummy, and looked at me. 'Why do you-- Why would you masturbate? Why... might anyone do it?'
I leaned back on the opposite counter and thought. 'Well... some people might do it because they're sexually frustrated.'
She was still looking at me. 'Are you sexually frustrated?'
I blushed. 'I don't think so,' I said carefully. 'I mean... there could be other reasons for it.'
'Of course,' she said.
'I mean, people might just be curious about it, about their bodies, about what happens when... well, when some things happen.'
She nodded intelligently. She's not an idiot, you know. 'Do you think it's wrong to be curious?'
I looked at her. 'No.'
'Then, you would have to decide which it is,' she said. 'If it's lust, it's certainly wrong; you won't ever hear me countenance sheer lust, Janine, no matter what form it takes. We've all been guilty of it at least a little bit; maybe even you have, but we acknowledge our sin and atone, in our own ways, and we move on, relying on our faith in God to guide us away from sin, and we should not be lustful people in general. But if it's just a young person trying to find out a little about the body God has given her, and some things happen, how is that wrong?'
'I guess it's not,' I said. 'But what if it starts out that way, and then changes into something else? And the person does it too much, and likes it too much, and then starts thinking that maybe it's just a sin and a way to get round what God has given her, and then she feels guilty all the time about it. And she can't stop thinking that she is guilty of cheating on God, and cheating on her husband some day, because she is denying her husband the one thing he has a right to, and that she is no longer pure and good, but sort of naughty and bad. Because she already knows what she will feel like on her wedding night now, and you can never go back once you know, as you told me once. You can't un-ring a bell. And that can't be a good thing, Mother... can it?'
Mother looked down sadly. For a long moment I couldn't ask her why and yet I wanted her to answer me, to just give me some answer, any answer, because I would have done whatever she told me is right to do at that moment. She even sniffled, and all at once I felt like we would both burst out crying. Then she finally said, 'Oh, Janine, you sound like me when I was your age!' And she turned round and snatched a tissue out of the box on the counter, looking away from me as she blotted her eyes and nose.
I had tears in my eyes too. I couldn't move from the counter and just leaned there, trembling all over. 'I'm sorry, Mother,' I said softly.
'No,' she said away from me, 'don't be. Don't be sorry at all. Don't think of yourself as anyone who ever has to feel sorry for doing what you think is right, Janine.' She turned and looked at me with her eyes full. 'You are a precious, beautiful person, sweetheart. Don't be so hard on yourself. God doesn't punish you for being curious, or for feeling weak, or for feeling sexually frustrated. A good God wouldn't do that.' She sniffled and then blew her nose a little. She is so cute that when she blows her nose she makes a little squeak. 'You are a good angel, Janine. Go and be the good angel God already knows you are, and don't be hard on yourself if you feel curious or frustrated and you slip up and fall into the temptation sometimes. I promise you your husband some day will forgive you, God will forgive you, and I am not anyone you should ever ask forgiveness from.'
I wiped my eyes with my finger, sniffling. 'I love you, Mother.'
'And I love you!' And we stood in the kitchen and held onto each other for as long as we could.
...
Something had been on my mind for a while and I needed to ask Mother (my stepmother, who is only 10 years older than I am) about it. The text is from my journal at the time which was not online yet.
Tuesday 19 August 2008
Jessy and I have been lying out beside the pool for about three weeks now, but I was not naked this evening when I went in to the kitchen for a glass of iced tea. I was, however, not totally dressed at all-- I was in plain pink panties and a black t-shirt.
Mother was in there finishing up her kitchen things and I offered to help, so I picked up a damp cloth and began wiping down the counters. 'Did you two have a pleasant afternoon, today?' she asked. 'I saw you two out there looking like pampered princesses.'
I laughed. 'I'm sorry, Mother. Do you mind that we do that?'
'No, no, of course not,' she said. 'You're exploring yourselves. That's your right as girls.'
I know what she meant, and it isn't anything risque at all, you know, just the idea of two sisters who have discovered the innocent pleasure of lying naked under the warm summer sun. But it did make me think of something else. 'Mother? Can I ask you something? I really don't know how to say this, but....'
She smiled and looked at me. 'You may always ask me anything. I might not know the answer, but....'
'Do you think it's a sin to masturbate?'
Of course no one would expect that question! The poor lady really thought about it and then managed to say, 'Well, what do you think?'
I thought too. 'I don't know what to think,' I said. 'The Bible says Osiris sinned by spilling seed on the ground. But that's not the same for girls... women. We're not wasting anything that's needed.'
Mother nodded, thinking seriously about that. 'That's a good point,' she said.
'But it's also the sin of pride,' I said.
Mother nodded at once, knowing exactly what I meant. 'Yes,' she said, 'it is.'
'It's pride,' I said, 'because God has put me in a state of life, a situation, where sexual gratification isn't called for. And I defy God if I say that doesn't matter, like if I come up with a way to get around what He wants for me. It isn't much different than premarital sex.'
She looked at me. 'Well, it isn't, but there is still a difference.'
I shrugged. 'Maybe....'
'In premarital sex you sin with someone. You both take advantage of this way of getting around what He wants for you, and, what's worse, you take undue risks upon yourself. Besides if you felt that strongly about each other, if you were that much in love, He has already provided a way for you to take. Right?'
I nodded. 'Yes.'
'And, of course, if you really don't feel that strongly about each other, it's only lust, and lust is a sin.'
'Yes,' I said.
She leaned in the corner of the kitchen, folded her arms across her tummy, and looked at me. 'Why do you-- Why would you masturbate? Why... might anyone do it?'
I leaned back on the opposite counter and thought. 'Well... some people might do it because they're sexually frustrated.'
She was still looking at me. 'Are you sexually frustrated?'
I blushed. 'I don't think so,' I said carefully. 'I mean... there could be other reasons for it.'
'Of course,' she said.
'I mean, people might just be curious about it, about their bodies, about what happens when... well, when some things happen.'
She nodded intelligently. She's not an idiot, you know. 'Do you think it's wrong to be curious?'
I looked at her. 'No.'
'Then, you would have to decide which it is,' she said. 'If it's lust, it's certainly wrong; you won't ever hear me countenance sheer lust, Janine, no matter what form it takes. We've all been guilty of it at least a little bit; maybe even you have, but we acknowledge our sin and atone, in our own ways, and we move on, relying on our faith in God to guide us away from sin, and we should not be lustful people in general. But if it's just a young person trying to find out a little about the body God has given her, and some things happen, how is that wrong?'
'I guess it's not,' I said. 'But what if it starts out that way, and then changes into something else? And the person does it too much, and likes it too much, and then starts thinking that maybe it's just a sin and a way to get round what God has given her, and then she feels guilty all the time about it. And she can't stop thinking that she is guilty of cheating on God, and cheating on her husband some day, because she is denying her husband the one thing he has a right to, and that she is no longer pure and good, but sort of naughty and bad. Because she already knows what she will feel like on her wedding night now, and you can never go back once you know, as you told me once. You can't un-ring a bell. And that can't be a good thing, Mother... can it?'
Mother looked down sadly. For a long moment I couldn't ask her why and yet I wanted her to answer me, to just give me some answer, any answer, because I would have done whatever she told me is right to do at that moment. She even sniffled, and all at once I felt like we would both burst out crying. Then she finally said, 'Oh, Janine, you sound like me when I was your age!' And she turned round and snatched a tissue out of the box on the counter, looking away from me as she blotted her eyes and nose.
I had tears in my eyes too. I couldn't move from the counter and just leaned there, trembling all over. 'I'm sorry, Mother,' I said softly.
'No,' she said away from me, 'don't be. Don't be sorry at all. Don't think of yourself as anyone who ever has to feel sorry for doing what you think is right, Janine.' She turned and looked at me with her eyes full. 'You are a precious, beautiful person, sweetheart. Don't be so hard on yourself. God doesn't punish you for being curious, or for feeling weak, or for feeling sexually frustrated. A good God wouldn't do that.' She sniffled and then blew her nose a little. She is so cute that when she blows her nose she makes a little squeak. 'You are a good angel, Janine. Go and be the good angel God already knows you are, and don't be hard on yourself if you feel curious or frustrated and you slip up and fall into the temptation sometimes. I promise you your husband some day will forgive you, God will forgive you, and I am not anyone you should ever ask forgiveness from.'
I wiped my eyes with my finger, sniffling. 'I love you, Mother.'
'And I love you!' And we stood in the kitchen and held onto each other for as long as we could.
...
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