My Mother is anorexic.
She'll never admit it. Her story is that it is in her past and that now all that happens is she sometimes forgets to eat.
My brother and I both did varsity sports, and we each had practice every evening and games or tournaments on the weekends.
And...we were always hungry.
To solve this, my Mother would purchase enormous bags of cereal.
Not because we couldn't afford any else.
It was just that Rick closely monitored the finances.
Any money she spent on us kids, he'd question, and they'd fight.
My brother's football and wrestling coaches were teachers, and he always had practice after school. And my Mother would pick him up on her way home.
My Coach had a day job. So I'd have to hang out with a friend or at the school until 5 when practice began and get home at 7, 8 o'clock at night.
Now my Mother and Rick were picky eaters. Real meat and potatoes kind of Midwesterners. And we ate a steady rotation of Hamburger Helper and Chef Boyardee Pizza Kits.
Most nights, I came home after dinner.
My mother dutifully set aside leftovers for Rick's lunch.
I was only allowed to have whatever was left beyond the portion saved, which was often nothing.
Or I could have cereal.
I was hungry a lot.
YOU ARE READING
What My Mother Forgot
Non-FictionBefore reading this, you should know... This is not a happy story. There is no happy ending. Simply put, this is a chronological account of the abuse, neglect, and bullying I suffered at the hands of loved ones from birth to 17 years old. It does no...
