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Author: Orange
Timestamp: May 16, 2017 at 8:17 PM
Content: I haven't wrote much of my other story lately, but I've felt like writing, so I figured I could share some real-life stories. Some names are are changed and the dialogue, being recalled from years ago, should be considered more of a reductive record of what generally was said rather than an complete record of how it was said, of course, but otherwise they're as real as I remember them. As such, I wouldn't call them strictly AB/DL stories, because let's face it, most ab/dl stories would not happen in real life, but simply experiences I've had that I've judged interesting from an AB/DL standpoint. I've got a few events in mind to write about, but this one and one about a sleepover I'd had a year before are the ones I've worked on so far. I'm sure the... let's say "different" life/lifestyle of my first serious girlfriend during the time I was with her would make a great ABDL story. However, for all I know she could be on here one day, read it and want to kill me so as much as I think it would be a good story, if I write anything at all about it, I'll confine it to a couple vignettes out of respect to someone easily crazy enough to burn my house down.
This one, as per usual for me, has not been re-read or edited at all, so you'll just have to deal with any extant errors. Aside from that disclaimer, enjoy:
I. 8th Grade Spirit Week
Anyway, this story was from the spring my eighth grade year. My Dad had some heart trouble the Friday before spirit week and had to go to the hospital. He ended up having to stay in the hospital overnight while they scheduled him in for a surgery, so he called my old daycare lady/babysitter Renee to ask if I could stay at her house for a couple nights, until he was out of the hospital. Even after I quit going to daycare, she would watch me if my Dad had to go out of town for a day or two when I was younger, and she was conveniently located in the townhouse behind ours. She picked me up in the evening after stopping to pick up some clothes for me at my house. I'll tell you a little bit about Renee. She was an older lady, in her late thirties-early forties, with two daughters, one adult, Holly, and one two years older than me named Heather. Her husband was in Iraq, and she got by running a daycare for her friends and the neighborhood kids. She was an ok daycare lady. She was generally pretty strict and she definitely yelled a lot, as well as habit of treating kids as if they were younger than they were. Spongebob and the Fairly Odd Parents, for example, were banned for everyone at daycare due to their level of violence and time outs were meted out to kids of all ages. In retrospect, I definitely think I got the least of it, maybe she recognized a precocious maturity in me or maybe she just took a general liking to me, but I was allowed a lot of things other kids my age weren't as long as my compatriots weren't around, but even I felt her categorizations of inappropriate-for-my-age-material were patently ridiculous. When I was 9 years old I got put in f**king time out for saying "ammo."
So I got back to her house, unpacked my stuff, watched some TV and got ready for bed. Usually, when sleeping over someplace at that age, I'd sleep in my clothes, or at most change into shorts, but Renee wasn't going to let that fly, and sleeping in my boxers was similarly out of the question because Heather was still living there and I'd be in her sister's room. Holly had moved out, but there was still a bed, dresser, a vanity and other junk in there, and since it was located right across the hall from Heather's room, Renee made sure I remembered that the only time I was allowed to be shirtless or in my boxers was while changing clothes or in the bathroom and I'm sure Heather got the female equivalent of that conversation. By the time Sunday had rolled around, Renee had re-immersed herself in my life, and since Jr. High and High School share the same newsletter, learned that spirit week at the Middle School started on Monday. Once she learned about the opportunity for extra credit, she became adamant that I participate. (My grades at the time were... meh. They weren't bad per se, just really average. But when your middle school test scores show the same disparity between you and the 99th percentile of graduating seniors that the 99th percentile of seniors has between them and the 15th percentile, people expect all sorts of bullshit from you that they don't expect from anybody else :\) On the calendar was Pajama Day on Monday, Twin Day on Tuesday, Wacky Wednesday, Career Day on Thursday and Spirit Day on Friday (Creative name, eh?) As a rule, I was not the kind of person to have anything to do with "school spirit" or a celebration thereof and Pajama Day in particular presented a problem. To understand why, you'll have to know a little more about me.
From as far back as I can remember until I moved out of the house as an adult, my selection of pajamas consisted almost exclusively of sleepers, primarily of the footed sort. For example, I got my first pair of pj/lounge pants ever when I was 17 as a Christmas gift. (Unless you're counting the bottom halves of two piece footie pj sets, in which case it would have been my third set of pajama pants ever.) It didn't start out as a preference, I just received most of my pajamas as gifts from my relatives or one of my Mom's friends and so I wasn't much involved in picking them out. The vast majority of pjs I had came from my Grandmother, who would send me some new clothes (frequently dressy clothes, not so much stuff I could wear every day :\) a couple months into every school year without fail. And in the same package, without fail, I got a sleeper of some sort, maybe two. Throw in Christmas, where getting pjs for Christmas is a tradition on my Mom's side, and where my Grandmother got sleepers for a male cousin of mine, one month younger than I, every year until he was fourteen and had spent several Christmases complaining about it, and you could see how they could take over your pajama drawer. Heck, that cousin's sister, two years my junior, and I both got two sleepers (Usually from Land's End) for Christmas every single year until our eighteenth birthdays. Though in her defense once we got closer to eighteen one of the two would be two piece footie pajamas.
(Love you Grandmother!) After a while I really started to like them, and not having tried anything else, the trend started to self-perpetuate. By the time I was in early adolesence, they were basically my "lazy clothes" and I'd change into them when I got home from school frequently, especially since it was just my Dad and sometimes my brother, sister or nephew in the house and if a friend came over I would be able to quickly throw on some clothes before answering the door. (I hadn't realized I was ABDL yet, just conscious of and pretty embarrassed about the magnetic effect "childish" things held on me.) In fact, I hadn't been self-conscious about it at all until third grade: My school had a pajama day for red ribbon week, and I was in school all week instead of having a few days in the gifted programme at a different school. I wore construction equipment-print footie pjs and to my utter surprise there was only one other boy in my entire class wearing them, who was a friend of mine. I don't remember much about the day other than my friend had a buzz lightyear footless sleeper and that I was made fun of mercilessly throughout the day for my "choo-choo train" baby pajamas. (The dumbass who coined that phrase is now a complete failure at life, thank you very much. He's racked up DUIs like he's going for the high score.) At this specific juncture in my life, really all of middle school in fact, I only had sleepers, and to wit only two without feet. I didn't want a repeat of my third grade pajama day experience, but if I was going to participate in pajama day there really wasn't any other options, so I argued with her. That got me nowhere. She wasn't going to budge; the most she relented was to offer to let me wear some of Heather's pajamas, as if wearing girl's pajamas would assuage my worries of getting made fun of. In the end, I gave up. I didn't have much of a choice and to be honest, her temper scared me a little.So as I got ready for bed that night, I figured out my options: I had a forest green pair with St. Bernards all over it that I had worn the past two days and a solid sky blue with a single St. Bernard on it, both from Land's End. (Both of which I still have) Additionally, I had another footed sleeper, pretty much the same color blue as the land's end one, only with trains and shit on it, that my Grandmother made for me (unfortunately I do not have this one anymore) and, of course, the option of using one of Heather's old pajamas. However, even if she had a set gender-neutral enough for me to wear to school (She didn't-- my choices ranged from a Barbie footed sleeper at the girliest end of the spectrum to a purple fleece flower-and-peace-sign-printed button-up two piece set at the least girliest end
) I wouldn't have worn them on principle. The green one was by far the least childish, and my grandmother had told me that the green complemented my eyes, so I put it on. I wasn't self conscious about wearing my PJs around Renee's house-- Renee could care less and I'd stayed there often enough over the years that Heather had long since exhausted the ability to make fun of me for it, especially if she lacked an audience. As long as I could wait for the daycare kids to leave before getting ready for bed, everything was kosher, and if for some reason that wasn't possible, I could usually hang out with Heather upstairs or something until they left. Unlike at home, Renee had both a time I needed to have showered, brushed my teeth and changed into my pjs by as well as a hard-and-fast bedtime, so I generally stole a flashlight, laid in bed and read until I fell asleep... which I eventually did.The next morning proceeded as normal as any weekday morning in another person's house can be, save for the fact I got to skip getting dressed in the morning, until I going to get my shoes on. Renee was appalled that I hadn't changed into clean pajamas. Again, I argued with her, but she ended up going up to my room, grabbing my other Land's End sleeper and making me change in the ground floor bathroom before I left for the bus stop. I probably could've went back and got the other pair, but that one was even more immature looking, and I probably could've covertly stuffed the green footies into my backpack to change into once I got to school, but I was resigned to biting the bullet at this point and the last thing I wanted to do was miss the bus and have every eye in the classroom on me as I barged into class late. I made it to the bus stop on time. Nobody gave me any shit at the bus stop, but that's probably because I knew all of them pretty well and I was the only 8th grader, so I had seniority. In fact, I was heartened to see the 6th grade girl from across the street, Molly, whom I knew pretty well, rocking a red with silver foil snowflakes footed sleeper (this kind from target from way back). We all just kicked it until the bus came, and when it arrived, I, of course, got on. Now normally I sat in the 3rd seat from the back, but since I was the bus driver's second least favourite person on the bus, it wasn't unheard of for me do be assigned the seat directly behind the bus driver for a day or week or two. This was one of those days, and unlike most days I was happy for it. I was pretty self-conscious about the whole thing, I had seen a seventh grade girl wearing a pink camouflage footed sleeper but aside from her, Morgan and I nobody else was. The last place I wanted to be that day was within range of the biggest shittalkers and overall meanest kids on the bus. 90% of the time I could give them as much shit as they gave me, but at that time I felt like I was walking around with a target on my back. In the front seat, I could set my backpack between me and the aisle to disrupt people's view and, since this was easily the most unpopular spot on the bus, if I had to sit next to anyone it wouldn't be for very long. A couple stops later I notice a girl wearing a pink sleeper emblazoned with penguins (This kind, also from Target) get on the bus and I recognize her as Katie. She lugs her viola case into the seat and sits down next to me.
Looking at both of us any other day and, judged by looks and social sphere alone, you'd probably guess we didn't talk. The psuedo-goth, eccentric smart(ass) kid and the frumpy and kinda uptight nerdy Mormon girl, but we had been stand partners in Orchestra since sixth grade so we knew each other pretty well by then. It was nice to have someone to talk to who I could be sure wasn't doing so to make fun of me for my choice of sleepwear...
"My little brother has the exact same pajamas as you," she said after sitting down.*
...or so I thought? I remember getting really embarrassed, probably visibly so, because she says something about not meaning it in a bad way.
"I think they're cute," she said, "I just didn't expect you to wear feety pajamas." (And yes, I know she had a crush on me NOW, but was clueless at the time)
She probably just meant "...for pajama day" but I took it as "...to bed every single night of your life."
"I don't know, I don't really like them that much," trying to downplay it, "I mean, they're okay I guess, but I'm just not a big fan of the feet." (LIEZ )
"Well you can get them without feet too," she replied, "Anyway, I like them. Why are you wearing yours if you don't like them? Don't you have any other pjs?"
"Cuz I had to," I said. Looking for an END CONVERSATION button somewhere.
"But why?"
I knew this would go on forever (except louder as time goes on), especially as I had orchestra with her as my very first two class block, so, in the interests of keeping the conversation confined to just us, I told her.
"The lady who's been watching me is making me do spirit week for the extra credit and she made me wear them."
"Why? Why can't you wear any of your other pajamas?"
"Well the only pjs I brought over there are footies and I didn't have time to go home and grab anything else." Yeah, no way I was going to admit to actually liking them.
From there I pivoted into complaining about Renee, always a fruitful topic.
"Wow," she responded, "Your babysitter is the worst."
"She's not my babysitter. Fourteen years olds don't have babysitters, she's just watching me while my Dad's gone," I retorted, feeling insecure again.
She looked at me deadpan, "That's what a babysitter does. It doesn't matter how old the kid is, its still babysitting."
"Nu-uh"
"That's what my mom calls it when she asks someone to watch my little brother and I. She asks them if they can babysit for her. There's nothing wrong with having a babysitter." She said that last sentence like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Nowadays, I honestly have no idea if it's weird for someone that age to have a babysitter or not. At the time, I was pretty shocked. I had been staying home alone for the most part since I was eight or nine years old. I mean sure, my Dad tried to find someplace else for me to stay if he was going to be gone (as in out of town) for an extended period, but it wasn't like it was unheard of for me to spend a night home alone either. She had a little brother and perhaps how old he was in relation to Katie could have played a part in that, but I don't know. I was quite curious about it, and hey, still am really, but I didn't really ask her a whole lot about it because I didn't want to seem weirdly interested in the fact she had a babysitter.
Eventually the bus rolled into the school and we disembarked. Normally I would've waited for my friends and screwed around before classes started in earnest, but I was unsure of what their reactions would be and so instead I walked with Katie to the music room and hung out with her there until the bell. I figured the bus was a suitably cross-sectional measurement of my classmates sleepwear preferences and concluded that while being relatively rare, there wouldn't be so few people wearing footie pjs that one person would attract a lot of attention for doing so, and surveyed my classmates as they filed into the room to confirm my hypothesis. Predictably, pajama pants were the most popular pajamas among both genders, though a significant number of girls wore two piece sets and accessorized with stuffed animals, blankets, robes and slippers. Non-participation seemed to be the most popular choice for members of my own gender, and even though our orchestra skewed heavily female, I cringed when I realized that there wasn't a single guy in our orchestra participating in pajama day wearing anything other than pj pants. No button-up flannel shirts, no pajama tops or slippers of any denomination and of course no sleepers. I had fully expected to be one of the only boys wearing footie pajamas, but I didn't anticipate that not only would just participating in pajama day put me in the clear minority among the boys of the school, but by wearing ANY pajamas beyond pj pants I would be a significant outlier. Worse yet, by the time class started I realized that out of the entire 8th grade orchestra, Katie and I were the only ones wearing any style of one-piece and/or footed pjs. I wanted to leave, hide in the bathroom for a bit, but knew that would draw even more attention so I made myself as busy as possible preparing my viola, wishing I had asked for a robe from Renee and idly wondering if any of my friends had a sweatshirt I could borrow. In an expanse of time that seemed like a moment of infinity but realistically was something more like 7-8 minutes, we started playing and I started feeling better. Sure, I generated a few double takes and had been the recipient of a couple weird looks, but if that was all that was to happen, I would have considered it a best case scenario. After going through our spring concert catalogue, we had our break. I had two friends in orchestra that I usually hung out with, located in the bass and 2nd violin sections, but one had been gone for months after he carved "HELP ME" into his forearm with a plastic knife in the school bathroom and the other was just absent that day for one reason or another. I had an aquitance in the cello section but he sat right next to a kid named Landon, who was a massive prick, so instead of going over there I just sat and talked with Katie, not really wanting to stand up and draw attention to myself. Since Katie and I were third and fourth chair, respectively, I felt relatively safe where I was, buffered on either side by the first and second chairs of Viola and 2nd Violin-- the nerdy, overachieving type of girls who never made fun of anyone to their face. That description didn't apply to the two immediately behind me, both quote unquote "popular" girls and cheerleaders, named Raeya and Kayla. However, at that point in my life Kayla and I hadn't exchanged more than two words between us and I got on well with Raeya, who was just a generally nice person. Their stand formed the epicentre for the breaktime congregation of said "popular" girls and assorted hangers-on, and that tradition continued today. Katie and I just talked, mainly about books. She was by nobody's definition a conversationalist but if you got her onto one of a certain few topics it was almost impossible to shut her up, and I largely just listened to her until I thought I heard someone say my name behind me. In high school, I was very much occupied in my own world (The phrase "space cadet" was often bandied about) and as such if I wasn't facing you it generally took a few tries at decent volume to get my attention, but after being certain that someone definitely had been saying my name I turned around.
"Finally," Raeya rolled her eyes, "I said your name like five times."
"Oh sorry, I didn't hear you," I explained, slightly embarassed, "What's up?"
"I just wanted to let you know how adorable you and Katie look in your pjs," she said, "You two look super cute together." (Yes, Raeya had a front row seat to Katie's advances toward me and my complete obliviousness towards them for a few years now. I learned in high school that she was actively trying to set Katie and I up together. No, I did not catch on to that fact until she told me.)
I'm pretty sure my face was completely red by the end of that sentence, but it was a genuine compliment, and I appreciated it.
"Oh, thanks. Your... uh... pjs are pretty cute too." (I felt like I needed to return each and every compliment I received for a long time)
By then our conversation had the attention of the rest of that group, and a first violin (and one of the top 5 worst violinists in the entire orchestra) named Shantelle (clad in a pj short and tank set that was so revealing that I'm pretty sure she later got in trouble for a dress code violation) also apparently felt the need to speak on the matter.
"Oh my gosh, look at Orange and Katie. They look like cutest baby twins ever!" She said, pretending like she was noticing us for the first time. "Did you two plan this? Like call each other at home and set this up?" She asked.
Sensing the possibility that I was about to get made of, and because it was true, I flatly denied it. I believe I said something like, "No, it just sorta worked out that we were both wearing them I guess." At which point Shantelle gave me a weird look, then turned to her friends, some of whom started giggling, and I probably looked very confused.
"So you just woke up and came to school in your pjs like everyone else? You didn't plan anything with anyone today?"
I mean, I had changed into a clean set before I left but I didn't see how that was relevant. Was I supposed to have something planned for today?
"Yeah...?"
Shantelle laughs as more giggles emanate from the group. My percent confusion level was approaching the high nineties. She responds once she catches her breath, "I can't believe you actually wear zip-up pajamas to bed." She turns back to the group, "Look, they even have little booties!"
...aaaaaaaaand at this point my near-maximum confusion was transmuted into near-maximum embarassment with near-maximum face-redness levels. I didn't have a comeback, or even an inkling of one. The thing I had been worrying about literally all day was happening and every response I had gamed out in my head for this moment deserted me. I kinda just sat there in silence. Raeya gave me a look that, if I was reading it right, said, "I'm sorry my childhood friend is such a raging bitch." And let's face it, she was your classic vapid, borderline learning-disabled, Paris Hilton-idolizing "Plastics"-caste Mean Girl of the 8th grade so the B-word is putting it lightly.
"It's like, Katie always dresses like a five year old, so OF COURSE she wears zip-up bootie jammies, but you're so always so gothic all the time I never thought you wore baby pajamas too."
More giggles erupt from the group of girls. Raeya, bless her heart, tried to put a stop to it. She looked to her friend with a serious expression and said softly, "That's enough Shantelle..." and it probably would've stopped there had Katie not felt she needed to enter the fray.
"These aren't baby pajamas, they make them for older kids too," she argued, "My mom got me them at Target, in the older kids section. I was with her."
Of course, Shantelle felt obligated to respond, and, being that her target was a girl, she didn't hold back, "They also make baby diapers for older kids, does your "mommy" buy you those too?"
"Shantelle, stop." Raeya was getting frustrated.
Katie shook her head, "Just because little kids or babies wear something doesn't mean that big kids like me or Orange can't wear it too, especially if its practical and comfortable." She was keeping it surprisingly cool.
"...like a diaper?" Shantelle looked like she smelled blood. "Did you just admit that you wear diapers?" She got a big laugh. In retrospect it was a pretty good comeback, though frankly I'm not sure she knew what the word pratical meant and just ended up getting lucky with that part of it. I don't remember 95% of the conversations in this piece word-for-word, but I still remember this comeback-- it generated plenty of "ooohs" from onlookers and I mentally facepalmed on behalf of Katie naming me specifically in her argument.
"Shantelle!" Raeya was standing at this point, but still being ignored.
Katie snapped a bit and got real loud out of nowhere. "Does it LOOK like I'm wearing a diaper!?" She gestured angrily towards her waist.
Shantelle sized up her and the situation for a second, probably mentally debating her choices at a clock speed of about 5MHz. "Uh.. yeah," she replied.
"No, it doesn't," she said firmly. Their tones had changed and became confrotational, people had mostly stopped laughing. Katie had the body language of an animal getting poked with a stick, while Shantelle was being incredibly flip about the entire situation. I remember looking around the room at one point and seeing a lot of eyes on us.
"It kinda does," she replied.
"Well..." Katie paused for a minute, either debating her shoulder-devils or gathering her courage. "At least my pajamas don't make me look like a slut." (I remember this one word-for-word too, it got even more "ooohs" than the other one. It was quite the spectacle: this was the first time I'd ever heard her swear and I had probably talked to her more than all but one or two people in the entire school.)
Shantelle responded with some variation of "What did you just say/call me!?" I don't remember, because it was now apparently Shantelle's turn to snap and she starts to move toward Katie very menacingly, like she's gonna beat the crap out of her. (Katie is/was like five feet tall, Shantelle was probably about 5'8"-5'9", definitely on the taller side for a girl) I get up to get between them and try to defuse the situation right as she shoves the stand between herself and Katie over. Literal seconds after the stand hit the ground the orchestra teacher Mrs. Pierson comes out of NOWHERE, yells at everyone to sit down and sends Katie, Shantelle and me (what the fuck did I do? I was doing exactly what she was doing except without the power to send people to offices. :\) to the office. This generated an immediate he said-she said (or technically she said-she said) situation from everybody involved which she responded to by repeating the command about the office to us and threatening to command it for others. At the time, this reaaaaaallllly tee'd me off, but now that I'm older I understand it... somewhat at least, but in my defense I didn't actually do anything wrong, was actually trying to do more good for the situation than any of the onlookers, 'sides Raeya maybe, and literally the only response she had to anything that I said was "Go to the office" with an optional "Now." added in at the end. I'm not real proud of it, but I, in my anger, threw up my hands and said something like, "Why the fuck aren't you listening to me?" (Only time I've ever angrily sworn at a teacher to their face in my life.) From the look on her face I realized that not only was I going to get anywhere with her, but I fucked up my chances of really any appeal, at least via her, so I left for the office and caught up with Katie on the way there. Shantelle was way in front of us.
We were both feeling pretty hot (as in angry, not sexually or thermally) and we had a lot to get out. I wanted to bitch about how unfair it was I was getting sent to the office, especially since I hadn't been giving a opportunity to express that in class to our would-be Justicar. She wanted to justify herself and blow off steam. She dismissed that entire group of girls as narcissistic, vacuous, and characterless clones of one another who hate anyone who is unique. I felt the need to defend Raeya, but otherwise I let her go hard and talked plenty of shit about Shantelle myself. We commisserated about how people dismiss sleeper-style pajamas as for babies and she explained how, as she was a Mormon, she had to dress modestly, even in regard to pajamas. She lamented the modesty of modern American pajama options for girls and said because of that there's a lot of pajamas out there that she can't wear. Footie pajamas were apparently some of the only pjs that both she liked and that her Mother (and God, I guess) approved of, but lately her Mother had been try to get her to wear what apparently amounted to old-timey nightgowns, something that Katie was informed me she was not keen on in the least.
So we made it to the office and we both got sent in to talk with one of the vice principals. It didn't go too bad for me, I explained myself and he empathized even if he didn't agree with my actions. (He told me not to stand between two people about to fight, even if you're trying to break it up... Good advice) Apparently both Shantelle and Katie generally corrobated my account of what happened so the only trouble I got in was for dropping an F-bomb on Mrs. Pierson, for which I got three days detention, one day longer than Katie got, which itself was equal to the amount of time that Shantelle had in-school suspension.
The rest of the day was significantly less eventful. I saw Katie again in Science, where we sat in the same "pod" and at other points in the day I got made fun of a little more by different people but with significantly less dramatic outcomes. There only ended up being probably eight or nine people besides me wearing footie sleepers in the entirely of my (pretty large) middle school: four of which were in my grade, three of which rode my bus and all of which were female. I got shit for it for a couple weeks but after that it was rarely brought up. At the end of the day I went to detention, then hung with Katie again while we waited to get picked up. As a consequence of getting detention, Renee changed when I needed to be ready for bed to something a lot earlier and moved my bedtime forward an hour for the two days I had detention, which turned out to be an incredibly boring hour every night given my insomnia and the fact that Renee would check in on me often to see if I was reading or something. I stayed at her place until that Saturday when my Dad was discharged from the hospital.
I might expand on this if ever I feel like it, but as I said there's not a whole lot more than tedious, half-remembered minutiae I can add. For now, I'll just drum up an epilogue and leave it at that. Shantelle and Katie, previously neutral to eachother, hated each other ever since. Shantelle dropped out sometime during junior year and I have no idea what she's doing now. Heard she had a kid. As for Katie, halfway through 9th grade year she spontaneously and inexplicably developed a posh British accent that she never broke character on and when she came back to school at the beginning of sophomore year she had gone ubergoth. All black wardrobe, Tripp pants, handcuff bracelets and corpse paint-- the whole nine yards of late 2000s/early 2010s goth-dom. I think this incident was beginning of a larger trend of anger management issues. She ended up shouting abuse at a whole lot of different people in the orchestra by the end of ninth grade year, including myself. I quit the orchestra after freshman year and the fact we didn't have any classes together after that, combined with her new temper meant we didn't really keep up. I don't think she's ever had a Facebook so I have no idea what she's doing now, but I blame a lot of how she was in school on her zealot of a mother. She didn't talk a lot about her home life, AFAIK her father wasn't around, but her mother was on one big important board or another for the local Mormon church. I only ever talked to her a handful of times, but let's just say all the Jehovah's Witnesses I've ever met have been more laid back about their beliefs than this lady, and I can see how that would suck for a kid to have to deal with.
*I remember the gist of what was said but not how it was said, so this is all at least a little inaccurate, consider a cliff's notes version of a conversation that played out for around 30min, just the important bits. She talks a bit like professor, probably a 'lil on the spectrum, but pretty sharp, just not always in social situations. She had a lot of what I'll call "oblivious confidence," even naivete. Sometimes she'd pursue something she didn't understand in conversation to the ends of the Earth, regardless of social boundaries, and to her, her beliefs were facts. (Later on, in high school she'd start sleuthing out people's BS homework and tardy excuses in front of the class which made her exceeding unpopular) If she thought something was cool, it WAS cool and you could not convince her otherwise.
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Author: Orange
Timestamp: May 18, 2017 at 10:24 PM
Content:
kerry said:
Hi, Orange.
I changed the title, as you can see, in order to make this piece easier to index.
[End of quote]
Thanks! Props to the indexing project by the way, I'm sure it took ton of work.
And I would remiss if I did not mention that I appreciate you making Michelle a recommended story. :wub: