Then, about a week later, I got home, and Mom handed mea box. She said, "That is your next present. Take off your uniform,but leave on your underwea... for now." I went upstairs, and hung up myuniform (I'd already learned that not hanging up my clothes got me somedegrading punishment). Mom came up behind me, and handed me the box. Iopened the box, and looked inside. I recognized what I had seen on theweb as a gaffe, but this one looked like it had a vagina. I looked ather, and said, "Isn't. ' She said 'tits' and 'legs' and 'spread 'em out a bit' a bit too close together and both Freud and I knew she was probably up for anything no matter how clever she thought she was. And I'd thought of a great excuse to counter anything else she might say. I suddenly felt as safe and powerful as Darth Vader on his Death Star. 'It's my style.' She laughed scoffed sneered at that. 'Style? It's just lazy. If classic lazy is your style, you nailed it.' My power, my security, exploded as young. More

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